The Storm And The Stars
by Lady Stormcrow
Summary: A year after the events of "Life Is What Happens", Megamind and Roxanne's wedding day finally draws near. But as their friends and family gather, secrets come out, old enemies return, and a storm threatens on the horizon . . .
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Storm And The Stars (1/?)  
><strong>Author:<strong> Lady Stormcrow  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Summary:<strong> A year after the events of "Life Is What Happens", Megamind and Roxanne's wedding day finally draws near. But as their friends and family gather, secrets come out, old enemies return, and a storm threatens on the horizon . . .  
><strong>Warnings:<strong>"There could be physical violence, there could be gunplay, and there's the slightest chance that somebody might even get killed." (Okay, not the last one)

**Chapter 1**

Only a few people knew why the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted bore that name.

Most outsiders assumed it was a joke. When the prison was commissioned, more than forty years ago, the place appeared no different from any other high-tech facility. Some of the inmates had led prestigious careers – master thieves, mob bosses, a professional arsonist – but most were ordinary crooks. And, as popular saying went, none of them could be all that gifted, or they wouldn't have been caught.

Warden William Greyson had always hated the name. It gave the inmates swelled heads, he thought. Bragging rights that they were somehow _special_, instead of lowlifes who'd fought the law and lost. If anyone had ever bothered to conduct a study, he wouldn't have been at all surprised to learn that the prisoners under his charge were unrulier than those at other facilities.

Still, at the end of the day, the warden liked his job. He took pride in keeping the prison running efficiently. He'd built a reputation for being a stern taskmaster, and took care to maintain it – in the field of prison administration, respect was crucial. And, he had to admit, it had been kind of an honor to be placed in charge of one of the few penitentiaries designated to house supervillains.

Not that there had been any supervillains in residence when Greyson first started work. The ones around back then had done their dirty deeds in places like New York or Washington D.C. – Metro City, despite its size, was considered an unimportant corner of the Midwest, with no political or strategic value.

So it was a source of deep shame for the warden that the city's first hometown supervillain had grown up under his care.

Greyson's wife, Susanna, hadn't wanted him to go in to work on Christmas, but he'd promised it would only be a few hours before he was back home with her and the girls. He'd been finishing up the last of the paperwork, when one of the guards had come bursting into the office with a crying, squirming baby in his arms. The young man had panted that it fell out of the sky, it landed in the exercise yard, the prisoners wanted to know if they could _keep_it . . . Warden Greyson hadn't made it home that Christmas.

They'd finally calmed the baby by giving it the tiny fish that had arrived with it. While the two little creatures dozed in his lap, the warden had spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what to _do_ with them. If the baby – a boy, they'd found when they bathed and changed it – had been normal, Greyson would have turned him over to Child Services immediately. But this child, with his bright blue skin and oversized cranium, who watched the world with far too much _awareness_for an infant . . . The warden knew that not every mysterious craft that fell from the sky came from outer space. But even so, he'd decided to keep the baby in the prison, close to the crash site, just in case his real parents came looking for him.

As time passed with no sign of aliens coming to claim their missing child, the warden had begun discreetly looking for a foster home. He'd had a birth certificate drawn up, and groaned at the name the clerk came up with ("John Blue"? _Really?_), but hadn't tried to change it. The kid was going to have a hard enough life – there was no reason to make it worse by sticking him with a weird name.

At one point, after a number of families had refused to take in the blue child, Warden Greyson had thought about adopting Johnny himself. As much as Greyson loved his four daughters, it would be nice to have a son. But then the superintelligent toddler had shown his knack for building objects of mayhem and staging breakouts, and that had killed all thoughts of the warden taking his work home with him – as well as any hope of placing the boy in a normal home.

With a prison to run and hundreds of other inmates to supervise (not to mention his own family to take care of), the warden had been forced to let said inmates help take care of Johnny far more than he would have liked. Greyson had justified it by telling himself it was only for a few years – once the boy was old enough to attend school, he'd get to interact with normal children, and learn to be an upstanding citizen. The warden had visited the small, ultra-private Lil' Gifted School, seen the sunny, cheerful atmosphere, and been so hopeful . . .

When Greyson found out what had actually happened at the school, he'd been furious – at everyone involved. He'd had Johnny Blue hauled into his office the day the boy was expelled, and could still remember some of the heated words they'd exchanged.

_"What were you thinking?"  
>"They deserved it!"<br>"That doesn't matter! If someone hurts you, that doesn't give you the right to hurt them back!"  
>"I don't care! I hated that place, I'm glad I don't have to go back!"<br>"How do you think this will make you look? Do you want people to think you're a bad person?"  
>"I <em>_**am**__ a bad person, okay? I __**know**__ that! And I'm not sorry!"_

By the time they were done, Johnny had been in tears, and the talk hadn't made any difference. As the boy grew to manhood and the life sentences piled up, Warden Greyson had nearly given up on him. He'd _wanted_to give up on him, had tried to tell himself that his former ward was a lost cause . . .

_"You're a villain, and you'll always be a villain! You'll never change!"  
>"You were right. I'll always be a villain!"<em>

"Looks like we were both wrong," the old man said with a smile. The blasting beat of AC/DC's "For Those About to Rock" filled his office, and he raised his voice, "Do you mind turning that down?"

The brainbot hovering over his desk shrugged and switched off its speaker. Instead of the usual electric blue, its plasma dome glowed in alternating ripples of white, lavender, and turquoise. Its jagged fin had been polished until it gleamed, and it wore a gold ribbon bow around the trunk where its arms attached (carefully out of range of its flame jet).

The card the little cyborg had presented to him was so brilliantly white that it was nearly blue. Gold filigree decorated the edges in an elaborate circle pattern, evoking the image of planets aligning. Still smiling, the warden read the elegant midnight-blue lettering again.

_The stars have aligned, and destiny has spoken!_

_Megamind, Defender of Metro City_  
><em>and<em>  
><em>Roxanne Olivia Ritchi<em>  
><em>invite you to join in the celebration of their wedding<em>  
><em>with emphasis on the celebration!<em>

_The twenty-first of March_  
><em>Two thousand and thirteen<em>  
><em>At eleven o'clock<em>  
><em>The No-Longer-Evil Lair<em>  
><em>Metro City, Michigan<em>

_For those about to rock, we salute you!_

The warden made a brief sound of amusement. "Cute. Tell him I'll be there." After a moment's thought, he added, "And so will Susanna." He'd need her help in picking out a present.

The brainbot saluted with a flourish, and departed.

oO+O+O+Oo

There are a number of good reasons to become a prison guard. The pay is decent, there are always hours to be had, you meet interesting people, and it's seldom boring.

Mike Venner had done it for none of those reasons. He'd become a guard because he liked carrying a weapon and having power over people.

Several months ago, after a number of complaints that he used his Taser and nightstick much too freely, the warden had confronted Venner and sharply warned him that abuse of prisoners would not be tolerated. The young guard had spent the rest of the day sullen and glowering, which had caught the attention of one particular inmate. In tones of friendly concern, he'd asked what was wrong, and the two of them had ended up having what would prove to be a life-changing conversation for Mike Venner.

Now, as Warden Greyson was receiving his wedding invitation, Venner made his way down to Cellblock 8, home of cons who were considered especially violent and dangerous, but who lacked superpowers. The guard glanced around nervously, looking for any sign that he was being watched. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you viewed later events), he wasn't.

Under one armpit, he carried a small bundle whose contents, if found, would not only cost him his job but could easily earn him a cell in this very prison. The cloth wrapping did not quite hide a sharp chemical smell – Venner prayed he could sponge it out of his uniform before anyone noticed.

Finally, he reached a cell at the far end of the block. Glancing around one last time, he whispered, "I got the stuff."

Mike Venner was tall and lean, and often used his height to intimidate people. This time, though, he knew it would do nothing. Although the man on the other side of the bars was shorter, he was nearly as wide as he was tall – thick and beefy, with powerful arms, an impressive gut, and legs like cement pylons.

Robert Casteel, better known as Destruction Worker, gave the guard a friendly grin. "Nice work, kiddo. My guys give you any trouble?"

"Nah, they were just happy to hear you're coming back." Venner took the bundle out, but hesitated. "You sure you can keep this hidden? 'Cause if they find out I'm helping you guys –"

"They're not gonna find out." Destruction Worker tapped the metal stump at the end of his left arm lightly on the bars. Instead of his trademark jackhammers or buzzsaws, the setting held a weak grasping claw – the only prosthetic the prison would let him use. His right hand, which was still flesh and blood, reached out expectantly. "You got no reason to be afraid, Mikey. Once we're outta here, you're gonna be one of us. Besides," his grin turned sharp, "you're in way too deep to back out now."

Venner hesitated one last time. Despite the villain's words, he could probably still walk away. All he was guilty of right now was possessing hazardous materials, and if he got rid of them, no one would ever know. He could forget the whole thing, never talk to this guy again . . .

But he wanted what the Doom Syndicate offered: power. The kind that came from having powerful allies who would kick the shit out of anyone who crossed you. Making friends had never been something Venner was good at, but Destruction Worker seemed like a pretty regular guy aside from the claw-hand, and Venner kind of liked him.

"Fine." He handed the bundle over. There was a clink of glass and metal.

"Thanks, Mikey. And trust me, I'm not gonna forget this. The Syndicate looks after its friends." The big man raised his prosthetic hand. "Speakin' of which, go put the word out to Simon and Charlene."

Venner's face fell. "Why do you even need them?"

He'd met the two people in question. Simon Morrow, better known as Psycho Delic, was confined in Cellblock 9 under near-constant surveillance. Just _looking_at the skeletal purple villain gave Venner the creeps. Charlene Rosen, who preferred to be called Hot Flash, could be charming when she wanted to, but getting into the Metro City Women's Correctional Center to talk to her was annoyingly tricky.

"It's not about needing them," replied Destruction Worker. There was nothing friendly in his grin now – it looked like he was baring his teeth. "I told you, we look out for each other. Once we're free, you want me telling them you wanted to leave 'em behind?"

Venner gulped. "No! I . . . I'll go put the word out."

"Good."

As the guard left, hurriedly, Destruction Worker shook his head. _Stupid little punk_.

Once he was sure he was truly alone, the villain unrolled the cloth bundle and examined its contents. He knew that most of the public saw him as the dumb muscle of the Doom Syndicate. The brawn to Psycho Delic's and Hot Flash's brains. In times like this, Destruction Worker didn't mind at all. When they thought you were dumb and underpowered, people underestimated you . . . until it was too late.

He'd always taken pride in being a threat without superpowers. When another inmate had cracked too many "Bob the Builder" jokes, he'd smashed the man's teeth in with his metal stump. And, while he lacked Megamind's finesse when it came to building objects of mayhem, his creations made up for it in raw power.

All he needed were the right ingredients.

oO+O+O+Oo

"Freeze!" the man in the dark ski mask roared. "Everybody up against the wall!"

Faced with contradictory orders, the lunch-hour customers at Metro City's largest bank obeyed the first one. They stayed where they were, eyes wide and expressions fearful, until the robber fired a shot into the air in annoyance. "I said _move!_"

As he herded them over to the side wall, his two masked cronies went to work. One barged behind the counter and waved his gun at the tellers, forcing them to empty the cash drawers. The other hauled the bank manager from his office, dragging him into the middle of the lobby floor.

The lead robber – witnesses could tell he was the leader because he was the loudest and had the biggest gun – strode up to the manager and gave him what he thought was a terrifying glare. "Okay, mister, now you're gonna take us to the vault. You look like a smart guy, so –"

"I can't say the same of _you_."

The leader jerked his head up sharply. "Who said that?"

The mocking voice came again. "Oh, did you not hear me the first time?"

Teeth gritted, the leader looked around the bank's vast lobby. Something about the scene had _changed_, he realized, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He turned away from the pale-faced manager and shouted to the air in general, "What the _hell_kind of trick is this?"

"Haven't you guessed?"

This time, the robber followed the voice, and realized what had changed. When he'd ordered the customers up against the wall, he'd given them a look-over, trying to judge if any of them might pose a threat. There had been nine people gathered at the wall, lined up under a decorative outline of the city skyline.

Now there were ten.

The newcomer stood apart from the others, leaning casually against the wall. He was a short, slender man somewhere in his thirties, dressed in dark slacks and a black leather jacket. His face was pale and angular, but handsome, his black hair neatly combed back from a high forehead. An expensive-looking watch gleamed on one wrist.

_How the hell did he sneak in there? _

With all the thieves' eyes on him, the man stood up and, with no sign of fear, started to walk calmly toward them. "Really, I'm disappointed. This place," he waved one arm at their surroundings, "used to attract a much higher class of criminal. The ones these days have no sense of _style_."

It is a well-known trick that someone who maintains eye contact, keeps talking, and acts with complete confidence can get away with just about anything. The robbers gaped as the skinny, unarmed civilian sauntered up to them; such a thing had never happened before in their criminal careers, and for the moment, they had no idea what to do.

"And what's with the outfits? Ski masks, pah!" An appreciative gasp went up from the crowd as the black-haired man yanked one robber's mask off. "Whatever happened to taking credit for one's evil accomplishments? And do you really need so many hostages?" He waved dismissively at the gathered customers and bank staff, and started to walk away. "_Quality_, gentlemen, not quantity! But I suppose I can't expect better from the likes of –"

"_Shut up!_" The leader shoved the bank manager aside and turned his attention, and gun, on the man in the leather jacket. "I don't know who you think you are –"

"Then let me introduce myself." He turned a dial on his watch, and his image changed in a flash of light.

His face and build stayed the same, down to the strip of beard on his chin. But his skin turned blue, his cranium doubled in size, and his clothes became a spiky costume of leather and spandex. He swept his cape with a showman's flourish.

"Megamind, at your service!"

One of the robbers whispered, "Oh _shit_." His leader glared at him.

Those who paid attention to such things saw that the blue villain-turned-hero had added to his usual outfit. His head was covered by a black-and-silver helmet, ringed with delicate spikes like a crown of thorns. As he straightened up, lines of blue energy arced between the spikes.

"There's no escape now, gentlemen," the alien said with a smile. The lines of energy spread from his helmet to the floor, shrouding him in a web of lightning. "You may as well go quietly."

In reply, the lead robber emptied his gun in Megamind's direction.

The bullets stuck in the energy barrier like flies in a spiderweb. A pulse and a crackle sent them scattering harmlessly across the floor.

The robber gaped. "How –" Before he could finish his question, a beam of aqua light reduced him to a harmless dehydrated cube.

Still keeping his de-gun trained on the other two, Megamind picked up their leader and twirled the cube between his fingers. "Your weapons are powerless, gentlemen." His smug grin vanished, and his voice lowered to a growl. "Drop 'em."

One of the thieves obeyed. The other, however, made a mad dash for the doors. He pushed his way into the chilly afternoon sunlight, rounded one of the bank's massive front columns . . .

"Hold it right there!"

He froze. The police officer blocking his path was a short, wiry woman with bronze-brown skin. Her black eyes flashed as she aimed her own gun. Down the steps behind her, he could see what looked like half the squad cars in the city filling the street.

"This is your last chance, mister," the officer snapped. "_Drop it_."

This time, he did as he was told.

oO+O+O+Oo

Some minutes later, while other cops hauled the robbers away and took statements from witnesses, Megamind approached the short policewoman. "Excellent timing with the backup, Danielle. I never knew you were so theatrical!"

"It's 'Officer Dymond'," she replied coldly. "And there's nothing theatrical about it. This is my job. Legally speaking, you're _my_backup."

Megamind gestured dismissively. "Oh, picky, picky. Whose brilliant idea was it to infiltrate and distract the evildoers from their hostages?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. "Fine, it was you. Nice hat, by the way."

"Yes, I thought you'd approve." The blue man removed his spiked helmet, turning it in his hands admiringly. "I'm told you were the one who said, quote, 'that big blue head of his makes an easy target'?"

". . . Well, it _does_."

"I must admit, it's not an entirely new creation. The basic design dates back to my shool days." He gave the officer a narrow look. "Ask your boyfriend what he knows about dodgeball."

Danielle sighed. "Look, I've heard the story, okay?" Her expression softened. "And we got your invitation. You couldn't just mail it?"

"I prefer to personalize such things." He paused, uncertain. "Did . . . _Wayne_," he hesitated for a moment on the name, "appreciate the personal touch?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he liked it." She glanced around, and lowered her voice. "Why are you inviting him, anyway? I mean, the history you guys have . . ."

Megamind looked uncomfortable. "It's . . . complicated. Surely _you_of all people can understand?"

Danielle was quiet for a moment. She thought of her own history and relationship with the man who had once been Metro Man; "complicated" was an excellent word for it. "Point taken." She gave a small, warm smile. "We'll be there."

"Excellent!" The blue hero put his helmet back on. "I'll have Minion add your names to the rez-vip list."

oO+O+O+Oo

Roxanne Ritchi leaned back against the shiny pipe railing that ran the length of Metro International Airport's baggage claim, and gazed out through the paneled windows. Although she couldn't see the sky, since the street outside was permanently shadowed by the upper level of the road, she could tell it was beginning to get dark.

The brunette reporter frowned. "James, are you going to be okay with driving all of us at night?"

The tall, lanky black boy sitting on the nearby bench shrugged. "Hey, I gotta practice sometime."

"Did they really used to let you go meet people up at the gates?" the short Hispanic girl beside him asked.

James Walker and Lucia Reyes were two of the young teenagers Megamind and Minion had rescued last spring, from a mad scientist who'd been subjecting the city's children to deadly experiments in an attempt to grant them superpowers. Out of Dr. Tremblay's thirty known victims, only five had survived – each with a new power to show for it.

None of the survivors had homes to return to, and their powers had made it all but impossible to find willing foster homes. So Megamind, with his typical enthusiasm (and at the urging of Minion, who'd very quickly become attached to the kids), had taken in all five of them.

It had been a crazy year. But, to Roxanne's amazement, it was _working_. Megamind, better than anyone, understood how it felt to be young, alone, and _different_. Since moving into the Lair herself, she'd watched him try his best to help his wards and make them feel like they belonged. That winter, he'd even become their legal guardian, presenting the adoption papers as a Christmas gift.

Lucia, who'd turned thirteen last month, was the youngest of the children. Although the reporter was careful never to say it out loud, she was Roxanne's favorite, partly because she'd known Lucia's parents for a brief time.

After their daughter was kidnapped, Roxanne had arranged for Mr. and Mrs. Reyes to appear on the news, in the hope that someone with information would come forward. Instead, Dr. Tremblay had seen the broadcast, and murdered them for speaking out.

Roxanne knew their deaths weren't truly her fault. When she'd told Lucia the full story, the girl hadn't shown any sign that she blamed her. But Roxanne still felt responsible for her, and while she'd never replace her mother (and knew Lucia wouldn't want her to), the two of them had formed a closer bond than Roxanne had with any of the other kids.

She chuckled at the girl's question. "You mean back in the olden days? Yes, they really did. And they didn't make you take your shoes off to go through security, how's that for old-fashioned?"

As she checked her watch again, Roxanne paused to look at the engagement ring on her finger. The first one Megamind had planned to offer her had been destroyed by Dr. Tremblay – literally destroyed, by a shot from Megamind's own de-gun. With no ring to give, her blue beloved had proposed by tying a string around her finger, in an echo of their many, many kidnappings.

They'd designed this new ring together. White platinum, with a pear-cut blue diamond in a setting of black titanium, it still resembled the first ring, and would match the wedding bands they'd ordered from the same Romanian jewelry designer.

Once again, it struck Roxanne just what a unique situations theirs was. It wasn't only that she was about to marry a former supervillain, who the public still believed was responsible for the death of their first hero. Megamind had declared many times that he was sorry for Metro Man's loss, and Roxanne had made sure to tell interviewers that the two of them were never more than friends. She still received hate mail sometimes, but told herself that all celebrities did; as long as no one harassed her in person, she could live with it.

The fact that she was marrying an alien wasn't the strangest part either. While Megamind had never denied that he was from another planet, he hadn't exactly shouted it in the streets either. Much of the world still had no idea he was anything other than a bizarre-looking human – it was safer that way. And, having lived on Earth since infancy, he had the same legal identity as any other citizen.

No, the truly strange part was that they were getting married at all. Roxanne had studied the history books, and the pattern was clear.

Superheroes didn't marry.

Oh, they often had a favorite girl (or guy) – some attractive civilian who kept getting caught up in their adventures. The public expected _that_. But in ten years of being half of the city's favorite (apparent) couple, the reporter couldn't remember anyone asking if she and Metro Man would ever take the next step.

Now she knew why they hadn't asked. They hadn't wanted to put the idea in Metro Man's head. On the rare occasions when a superhero _did_settle down, he or she was expected to hang up the cape. It was just how things were done.

Well, not this time. Her husband-to-be still had years of evil mayhem to atone for, but more than that, he _loved_his job. "Being good feels good," he'd admitted once, and making the city a better place was just the creative outlet his overactive brain needed.

_It won't be the first time we've broken the rules._

At last, she spotted the person they'd come to meet. "Jase!"

"Roxie! How's it going?"

Her younger brother hurried down the walk and wrapped her in a one-armed hug. With his other hand, he carefully held a half-finished cappuccino at arm's length.

Roxanne squeezed him back, then tapped the paper cup pointedly. "Let me guess. This is why you took so long?"

"Hey, I get dehydrated on long flights!"

Like his sister, Jason Ritchi had blue eyes and a spray of freckles across his cheeks. His hair was a lighter, more golden shade of brown, cut short and smooth. The hiking boots and Seahawks sweatshirt he wore made him look like an overgrown college student, instead of an engineer for one of the most respected aerospace companies in Seattle ("Not a rocket scientist, but the next best thing," was how she'd heard him describe his job).

"No you don't, you're just an addict," she replied, doing her best mock-sorrowful look. "You care more about caffeine than you do about your own sister."

Jason gasped dramatically. "Never!" To prove it, he pitched his unfinished drink into the trash, and gave her a proper hug. Over Roxanne's shoulder, he noticed James and Lucia, and his smile widened. "Wow, I get a welcoming committee?"

Lucia giggled. "I'm just here for the ride. They picked me up from music class before they came here."

"Well, I'm still glad to see you again, 'Cita. You too, Plant Man," he called to James.

The boy snorted. Although he was half Jason's age, he was already several inches taller. "I can do other stuff, you know. I'm workin' on my learner's permit."

As the four of them went to collect Jason's luggage, he said to his sister, "I still can't believe you agreed to go along with it, Roxanne. I mean, five kids at once? When did you turn into Maria von Trapp?"

Roxanne laughed. "Well, I do have the hair for it."

Grinning, Lucia twirled her fingers. A multicolored ribbon of light flowed from the young girl's hand, shaping itself into the outline of music notes. The first few bars of "Doe, A Deer" played in the empty air.

"Show-off," James said with a teasing smile.

"Hey, my teacher said I should practice music whenever I can!"

"I really doubt this is what she meant," said Roxanne. Her tone became serious. "Lucia, we've talked about this. It's great that you're so comfortable with your powers, but you shouldn't use them in public unless it's an emergency."

The black-haired girl started to say something, but stopped herself. Looking disappointed, she dimmed the illusion.

oO+O+O+Oo

While they made their way to the airport garage, Jason kept chatting. "So what kind of wedding are you guys planning on? Is there anyone on the guest list I should watch out for?"

"If you're hoping to meet more supervillains, you'll be disappointed," Roxanne replied with a smile. "It's a small gathering, just trusted friends and family. The only person with evil connections will be Megamind's Romanian business contact."

Jason shrugged, and went on. "You mentioned family. Does that mean Mom's coming?"

Roxanne hesitated. Their mother was always a painful subject for the Ritchi siblings. "I sent her an invitation. She hasn't said no."

"She hasn't said _anything_, I'm guessing?"

". . . No."

Jason laid a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. "You've tried, Roxanne. No one will ever say you didn't try. And you've still got friends coming, right?"

"A few. Some people from work, and I invited my old reporting mentor –"

"What about Victoria Oswell?"

Roxanne blinked. "Tori? Jason, I haven't seen her since high school. I don't even know what state she lives in now!"

"Really? But you guys were best friends!"

"You just want her there because you had a crush on her."

"Hey, she liked me!"

"She was seventeen. You were twelve. It wasn't going to happen." Roxanne gently pushed his hand off her shoulder. "You know, you still haven't told me why you wanted to come visit so early. Not that I'm not glad to see you," she added, "but the wedding's not for a few weeks, and I'm going to be busy most of that time. Can you keep yourself entertained?"

Jason smiled. "Well, I was kind of hoping the blue guy and I could spend some time together. Seeing as we're going to be family. I thought maybe we could, y'know, hang out?"

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "And do what?"

"Uh . . . guy stuff?"

"Guy stuff . . ." She groaned. "Oh no, you're not planning on throwing him a bachelor party, are you?"

". . . It crossed my mind . . ."

Roxanne sighed. When she'd broken the news to her family that she was involved with Megamind, she'd hoped her brother would at least tolerate him. Instead, when Jason had finally visited the Lair last year, he'd taken to Megamind with so much enthusiasm that both he and Roxanne were a little disturbed. She'd had to remind Jason that, hey, this _was_the same man who'd spent years using her as a hostage in his villainous plots!

She wondered if it was because of Seth, Jason's twin brother. Growing up, the two of them had been incredibly close, and when Seth had been killed in a hit-and-run accident when the twins were eight, it had torn Jason apart. Roxanne had done her best to be there for him afterward, but she had a feeling he still longed to have a _brother_again.

"I really don't think he'd be interested, Jase," she said. "He still has a hard enough time doing normal 'guy stuff'." Seeing his crestfallen look, she added, "If it makes you feel any better, he's going to be pretty busy too. It isn't personal."

"It was just a passing thought. Forget I said anything." Jason looked thoughtful. "Speaking of not being personal, there's one other reason I wanted to come here early." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I'm hoping to do some business research."

"Oh? What kind?"

"Well . . . I don't want to promise anything, but I've been getting kind of tired of Seattle."

Roxanne's eyes widened, and she didn't try to hide her smile. "You're thinking of moving back to Metro City?"

"Maybe. There's this new company that's been sending recruiters –" Jason suddenly paused as they passed a wall-mounted billboard. "And there you go!"

The billboard showed the image of a handsome, smiling tawny-skinned man in an immaculate gray suit. Two white-coated scientists, one dark and one pale, stood beside him in a politically appealing cross-section of the human race. Silver-gray lettering identified the man in the suit as Devon Singer, founder and CEO of Green Mountain Technologies. The company logo showed a row of three green triangles, their points sticking up like mountain peaks. A corporate spiel listed terms like "a cleaner, brighter future" and "the betterment of humanity" . . .

Roxanne froze.

Behind her, James spoke up, sounding disgusted, "You want to work for _that_guy?"

"Dev Singer?" Jason looked puzzled. "Hey, I know his company's pretty new, but they –"

"He's _horrible!_" Lucia declared.

". . . Okay, clearly I'm missing something here. What problem do you guys have with Green Mountain?"

"I'll explain in the car, Jason." Roxanne's blue eyes were icy as she looked at the billboard. "It's a long and complicated story."

_**To be continued . . .**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **Well, this is embarrasing; I'm only just now figuring out how to format chapters properly on this site!_

_I want to apologize for the overdose of OCs and domesticity in this chapter. Family/teen drama isn't my favorite thing to write at all, but it's necessary to establish relationships and set up stuff for later. I promise, the whole fic won't be like this - there **will **be mayhem and supervillains and more focus on the canon characters. Just please bear with me for now._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

When the teens had come to live with them last year, the Lair's three adult residents had soon realized they needed another car.

Metro City had respectable public transportation, and when the school year had started, Megamind had convinced the board of education to send a bus out to the peninsula (it had probably helped that he visited their offices in full villainous costume, with Minion and a swarm of brainbots at his side). But sometimes they needed to hit the road on their own terms, and the invisible car, while roomy, didn't have enough seatbelts for everyone. As a professional hero (and to prove that he really could be a suitable foster parent), Megamind couldn't afford to set a bad example.

The issue had gotten more serious when Violet and James, who were old enough, had asked about learning to drive. Megamind wasn't about to let a beginner get behind the wheel of his signature vehicle.

So, over the summer, he and Minion had fixed up an old minivan, chosen on the grounds that it could hold everyone, wouldn't draw attention, and could probably win a crash with another vehicle (in fact, victory was assured, thanks to the secret "added features" the two of them had installed).

"It makes me feel like a soccer mom," Roxanne had half-jokingly complained. On her own, she preferred to use the personal hoverbike Megamind had made for her. Still, she did have to admit that the van was more pleasant when winter came. It helped that she rarely did the actual _driving_ – more often, her job was to supervise the young learner behind the wheel.

Fortunately for her nerves, James was turning out to be a responsible driver, so she only needed to keep part of her attention on him as they dropped her brother off at his hotel. By now night was falling, and she could see the streets grow darker as they left downtown and entered the industrial district.

The location of Megamind's Lair was public knowledge, but he still preferred not to draw attention to it. From the outside, the abandoned power station didn't look very different from the day Roxanne had discovered it, nearly three years ago. The bricks were still weathered and soot-stained, and the massive art deco windows looked nearly opaque with grime – only visitors who'd been inside knew the opaqueness was one-way. Even the new addition they'd built had been treated to look as old as the rest of the building.

As they approached the garage entrance, a loud _ZHREEEEOWWWWM _sounded overhead. Through the passenger-side window, Roxanne could just make out two black-clad figures zooming high above.

One flyer moved like a darting insect. The blue flame of a jetpack flared on his back as he hovered and zipped through the air, moving in any direction at a whim.

The other flew like a hawk, soaring and swooping in lines and loops. He kept his arms out and knees bent, like a surfer riding the waves . . . and then he saw the van.

James hit the brakes as the flying surfer pivoted in midair and dived straight at them. The van's headlights flashed on the wires and gages that covered the white plastic board he rode. He hovered outside the windshield, gave the three people inside a friendly wave, and then shot into the air again, faster and faster . . .

The board slipped from his feet.

Roxanne's heart stopped.

The flyer with the jetpack dove after his companion as he plummeted toward the ground. He gestured wildly, shouting directions . . .

The falling one twisted in midair. A heartbeat later, dark purple airbags inflated, surrounding him in a protective padded cluster that, to Roxanne's eyes, made him resemble a giant blackberry. He hit the asphalt with an audible _bwoing_, and bounced harmlessly down the road, the jetpack-wearer chasing after him.

Lucia gaped for a moment, then applauded.

James leaned out the window and did a fist-pump.

Roxanne clapped a hand over her eyes and groaned. _Ugh, I'm going to __**kill **__those guys!_

* * *

><p>In the brick-walled alcove that housed the Lair's kitchen, Minion donned a pair of oversized oven mitts and carefully took out the tray of cod fillets. Despite their clunky look, his suit's metal hands were very touch-sensitive, especially to things like heat and sharp edges. A key part of his job was handling dangerous substances and equipment – even if they wouldn't damage the robot suit, they could injure his master, and Minion needed to be able to alert him.<p>

The microwave beeped. At the bar counter, a waif-thin black girl in a headscarf closed the textbook she'd been reading. "Hold on, I can get that."

"Thanks, Vie."

Minion smiled as he watched her remove the casserole dish. It hadn't really been necessary for him to voice his thanks – as she walked by, he felt a warm, feather-light brush at the edge of his senses, and knew she was reading the gratitude in his thoughts.

He focused on the mental image of a pepper grinder. On cue, she picked the same grinder off the counter and started spicing the vegetables.

Most of the time, Violet Morgan kept her mind-reading powers tightly reigned in. It wasn't just a matter of respecting privacy. Even the nicest people sometimes have dark and twisted thoughts. Sex and violence were deeply uncomfortable subjects for Violet, who had been badly abused when she was younger, and unfortunately, humans tend to think about sex and violence a _lot. _

It was different with Minion. She felt safe around him in a way she did with no one else, even the therapist she'd visited for a time. She claimed the alien fish gave off "good vibes", and often stayed close to him when they were both in the Lair.

Minion, for his part, had come to wonder if he really _did _produce some calming psychic influence. Perhaps it was a trait of his species, the reason Megamind's people had chosen them as companions? There was so much about their old world that both master and minion simply didn't _know._

Well, regardless, he enjoyed Violet's quiet company. Since she saw people's minds before she saw their faces and bodies, she'd never had trouble thinking of Minion as a _person, _even when he wasn't in his humanoid suit. She hadn't even asked if he had a problem with eating non-sentient fish, understanding that, for him, it was no different from a human eating a cow. It was a small gesture – or lack of gesture – but it meant a lot to Minion.

Fish and girl looked up suddenly as voices and footsteps approached across the Lair's vast floor. They spotted Megamind and Roxanne, deep in argument, with James and Lucia trailing behind and looking like they wished they could make a run for it. A pale, bespectacled boy with wavy dark hair walked by the blue alien's side, and the two of them wore identical padded black jumpsuits.

Just as Lucia was Roxanne's unspoken favorite of the kids, Reggie Kovacs was Megamind's. Like his foster father, the young technopath was an orphan who'd grown up in an institutional setting – a group home that, from Reggie's stories, didn't sound very different from prison. The two of them shared a love of gadgetry, inventing, and science fiction, and when the kids had moved into the Lair, it hadn't been long before Reggie asked if he could help out with the genius hero's projects. Flattered, and curious to see what the boy could do, Megamind had taken him as a kind of apprentice.

"It was _my_ idea, Roxanne!" Reggie insisted. Puberty was not being kind to him; his voice had recently started to crack, and he had to fight to keep it steady. "I came up with some new stuff for the hoverboard, and I had to see if it worked!"

"And clearly it doesn't!" Roxanne tried not to yell. "Reggie, how can you not understand that you could have _died? _And why did _you,_" she turned back to Megamind, "let him do it? I thought you were using a dummy to test the board?"

"The antigravity capacitor doesn't work without Reggie's direct control," her fiancé shot back. "Roxanne, he was never in any danger! I was in the air guiding him the entire time. I even insisted he wear some of my emergency hero gear, as you saw!"

"Which was _completely awesome," _the boy added with a beaming smile. "How did you come up with the airbag belt? That thing is _fun!_"

Megamind grinned back. "Well, the basic shape was inspired by –"

"_That's not the point!_" Roxanne cut in. "It's one thing for you to test inventions yourself. You're a professional. You've been doing it all your life, and you know what to do if something goes wrong. But you can't put one of the kids at risk!" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "You said you wouldn't abuse their powers."

Too late, she realized that not only Reggie, but James and Lucia as well, had heard her.

As he often did when his friends argued, Minion tried to defuse the situation. "Who wants dinner? Violet and I were just setting up –"

"I'm there!" James and Reggie said in unison. The boys stampeded for the kitchen, Lucia following. After a tense, uncomfortable moment of this-isn't-over, Megamind and Roxanne joined them.

* * *

><p>Most of the time, the Lair's residents foraged for their own meals. With the erratic schedules they kept, it wasn't possible to have a "family dinner" every night. Even so, Minion cooked frequently – it satisfied his urge to feed and provide for his charges, and with plenty of leftovers, nobody would have a reason to live on takeout, which most of the kids would happily have done.<p>

Because all eight of them rarely sat down together, they only kept a small dining table set up. His master and Miss Ritchi took seats there with James and Lucia, while Violet and Reggie stayed at the bar counter – she because she preferred to be away from the crowd, he because he was trying to avoid Roxanne.

"So . . . Miss Ritchi," Minion began, trying to break the uncomfortable silence, "did your brother arrive safely?"

Roxanne swallowed her bite. The talk she'd had with Jason about Devon Singer and Green Mountain Technologies had left her in a dark mood. She'd hoped that spending the evening at home with her loved ones would make her feel better; instead, she'd ended up quarreling with the one she loved most. All in all, she wasn't feeling chatty.

". . . Jason's fine."

The silence descended again.

". . . I'm surprised Laurie hasn't joined us yet," Megamind remarked, to no one in particular. "I would have expected her to appear the moment she smelled food."

Minion paused from gnawing on the cod fillet he'd dropped into his tank. "I think she went up to her room when she got home."

"She's still there," Violet said quietly. She put down her fork and pressed her fingers to her temples, concentrating. "She . . . knows we're eating, but she's afraid to come downstairs." She shot a glance across the kitchen at James. "And _you_ know why."

James froze with his mouth half-full of food. He gulped quickly, and glared back at her. "I hate when you pull that trick on us! How'd you like it if I used my powers on you?"

Violet snorted. "Like I'm afraid of you siccin' the produce aisle on me."

"That's enough!" Megamind turned in his chair to face both of them. "James, what is she talking about? Is something the matter with Laurie?"

The tall boy nervously pushed one dreadlock back. "Look, she really doesn't want me to tell, and I promised her I wouldn't. I'm not a snitch." The glare he gave Violet clearly said, _Unlike __**some**__ people. _

The blue man smiled. "And your loyalty is very commendable." The spikes on his gloves made scratching noises as he leaned forward on the table. "But I'm your guardian, not your jailer. I can't help you or Laurie unless you tell me what's wrong."

"You can tell her I dragged it out of you," Violet said, more kindly this time.

"You _did _drag it out of me!" James sighed. "All right. Laurie . . . she kinda got in trouble at school today."

Megamind sat up sharply. Watching him, Roxanne could almost imagine his ears perking up like an alert cat's. His voice became low and cold as he asked, "How much trouble are we talking about, exactly?"

"Hey, I didn't see it happen!" James straightened up in his own chair. When they both were standing, he towered over the short alien, and even now he had the height advantage. "But I know Laurie. If she used her fire on someone, she must've had a damn good reason –"

Roxanne choked. "_She used her fire on someone?_"

"Did she say why?" Minion started to ask, but paused as he saw his master hurriedly getting up from the table. "Sir, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to talk to her, of course!" Megamind strode out of the kitchen, his boots clocking on the tiled floor. "We have to get to the bottom of this!"

Minion and Roxanne exchanged a look. Hesitant, the cyborg fish asked, "Uh, should I come too?"

"I said I'll talk to her!" the blue alien snapped at them over his shoulder. His cape billowed behind him as he headed for the stairs.

Lucia gave her vegetables a silent poke. The girl's face was full of soft, frightened misery, and Roxanne realized she was close to crying.

The reporter's anger melted. "Hey. Sweetie, it'll be okay." She gently rubbed Lucia's shoulder. "Laurie's a good person. I'm sure whatever happened wasn't that bad."

Lucia didn't meet her gaze. She looked down at her plate, her hair falling in a black curtain about her face. "It's not just Laurie."

A nasty pang of guilt hit Roxanne as she realized. _Of course it's not. It's because the 'rents were fighting in front of the kids. _

It . . . surprised her a little, when she found herself thinking that way. Despite Megamind's promises when he'd first suggested the idea, Roxanne had known she'd bear a lot of the responsibility of caring for his wards. She'd gone in expecting that she'd be like a mentor, or a cool big sister – the way she'd been with Jason and Seth when they were growing up. The idea of being an actual _mother _brought on a whole new set of complicated feelings.

Still, she tried to reassure her. "If it's about me and Megamind, you don't need to worry about that either. Come on, you've seen us argue before. We banter. We always have."

"Not about _us._" Lucia looked up, and her brown eyes locked with the reporter's blue ones. "Roxanne, _why _can't we use our powers in public? It's not like people don't know we have them!"

Roxanne took a deep breath. _Should have seen that one coming. _"It's just . . . safer, okay?"

That was the official reason she, Megamind, and Minion had given. And it was a _good _reason. The kids knew Dr. Tremblay had targeted them because of their inborn potential for superpowers, and they were smart enough to realize that there were plenty of other people who'd happily exploit them if they got the chance.

But, over the months, they'd started to recover from their experience. Safe in the damage-resistant Lair, they'd grown more comfortable with their new powers, and were beginning to discover just how much they were truly capable of. And, although Roxanne was glad to see them getting better, it brought up another worry she'd had from the beginning.

Whenever she saw one of the kids so eager to show off their talents, she thought of Metro Man.

Or rather, she thought of Wayne Scott. Using his superhuman abilities to get attention, becoming a superhero just because it was expected, and ending up feeling so trapped in that life that he'd faked his own death to escape.

But she couldn't explain that to Lucia. The three adults had decided early on that they wouldn't tell the teens that Megamind's former nemesis was alive unless they absolutely had to. It wouldn't be fair to burden them with such a secret. As far as the reporter knew, even Violet wasn't aware.

"It'll be different when you guys are older," Minion said. "For now . . . please, just trust us?"

* * *

><p>As he climbed the long, wrought-iron flight of stairs, Megamind began to wish he hadn't told Minion to stay behind. All his life, he'd depended on his friend's support in bad situations, and this sounded like it was going to be a <em>very <em>bad one.

_She used her fire on someone?_

Minion was also the one who'd first suggested they take the teens in. But Megamind, to his own surprise, had found that he liked the idea. Children in general were a complicated issue for him, but these five were a special case.

Part of it, he had to admit, was guilt. His creation of Tighten had done even more damage than Megamind realized: it had inspired Dr. Tremblay to start his own project. The fact that almost all of Tremblay's subjects died hadn't stopped the doctor, and Megamind had known he'd have to take special care of the survivors, to make up for the ones he'd failed to save.

He'd only planned to let them stay at the Lair for a short time, until Tremblay and his accomplices were convicted. But keeping an emotional distance wasn't one of Megamind's strengths. Just as he'd fallen in love with the woman who was supposed to be his hostage, he'd come to love the children he was only supposed to provide a temporary haven for.

He'd known it wouldn't be easy, but few things in his life ever had been. And caring for them, protecting and teaching, seeing first-hand that he was changing someone's future for good . . . it made him feel like a hero.

The parenting books he'd read all said that you should be your be your child's disciplinarian, not his friend. But Megamind had spent too many years fighting against authority to be good at discipline, and he _did _want to be their friend – he'd had so few friends before. He often saw echoes of his own painful past in them, and when he did, it took all his willpower not to spoil them rotten.

And now _this _happened.

To be honest, he'd been afraid there might be trouble with Laurie. Out of all the kids, she was the one who most reminded him of Hal Stewart. They were both short-tempered and, well, _fiery. _They both had incredible potential for destruction. And Laurie was the only one of the children who'd killed someone with her powers – the night they escaped from Dr. Tremblay's lab, she'd burned several of his henchmen alive in a massive fire blast.

She'd saved all their lives by doing it, since the henchmen _had_ been trying to shoot them. But Megamind still couldn't ignore it.

At last, he reached the top of the stairs. The rooms up here had once been the power station's management offices; when he'd realized he was going to be living in the Lair full-time, Megamind had converted them into living quarters, and claimed the biggest one for himself and Roxanne.

Violet, because she was the oldest (and had the most privacy-invasive powers), got her own room. James and Reggie shared the one next to her, while Laurie and Lucia had the room at the end of the hall. Dreading what might be about to come, Megamind knocked on their door.

"Laurie? Are you in there?"

"No!" Laurie's sharp, slightly nasal voice answered.

In spite of things, Megamind chuckled. "Then I'm sure you won't mind if I come in?"

". . . Okay."

Megamind pushed the door open. His brilliant green eyes scanned the room, and spied a Laurie Bryant-shaped lump curled up on one bed. "Erm . . . ollo?"

The fifteen-year-old rolled over to look at him. Some of her long brown hair had fallen across her face, and she pushed it back. "So you heard I got suspended?"

_Suspended? _". . . I've heard many things." The blue alien pulled the chair from her desk and sat down beside the bed. "But you still deserve to tell your version." _Let's see what you have to say for yourself. _

Laurie sat up on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. For the first time, the hero noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. _Remorse? A good sign. _

"Megamind, I didn't even _hurt _them!" she choked out. "Greg and Taylor have been pushing people around all year! I just got so damn sick of –"

"Wait, wait, wait!" He held up both hands. "Do you mean to say you're being soh-spended for _defending _yourself?"

"Hell no! They know better than to fuck with me." She gritted her teeth. "They were going after my friend Corey. He's . . . look, it's hard for him right now, okay? Greg and Taylor cornered him after gym today." Her amber eyes were wide and fierce. "They're twice his size, they could've _killed _him! I had to do _something!_"

In an instant, Megamind's entire view of the situation changed. His heart rose with fatherly pride. He wanted to hug the girl, and praise her for her heroism . . .

. . . But he couldn't. It was against the superhero code to condone fighting. And from the sound of it, her opponents had, technically, been unarmed civilians. "And you thought _setting them on fire _was the thing to do?"

"It was just their gym bags!" After a moment, she added, "And Taylor's jacket. He didn't get burned at all!" Her tone suggested that she now regretted this oversight.

Megamind groaned, rubbing his temples. "If these boys are so much trouble, why didn't you report them?" The words rang hollow even as he said them.

Laurie snorted. "Are you kidding? They're school heroes! I'm just one of Megamind's pet freaks!"

The blue alien's head snapped up. His eyes blazed as he demanded, "Who called you that?"

"Does it matter? It's true!"

"It is _not _true!" He leaned in, trying to stay calm. "Laurie, you are _not _a freak. You have . . . _gifts_, but that doesn't give you the right to –"

He choked on his own words.

Memories flooded back. In his mind's eye, he was eight years old again and sitting in Warden Greyson's office, freshly expelled from the Lil' Gifted School. He remembered the aching mix of anger, fear, and righteous triumph as he yelled that he wasn't sorry, that his tormentors had deserved what they got, that he was a bad person and he was glad he didn't have to go back.

Now he imagined himself on the other side of the desk.

Megamind was vaguely aware, thanks to Minion's taste in sitcoms, that women often feared becoming like their mothers. He hadn't realized such things could apply to men as well.

Laurie's voice brought him back. "So, what, it's okay for _you _to fight bad guys, but not me?"

"Yes! . . . I mean, no! . . . I mean – Laurie, that is completely different!"

"_How is it different?_" She swung her gangly legs over the edge over the edge of the bed, and her posture became aggressive. "You terrorized the city for more years than I've even been alive. Then you put on a white cape, and that magically makes you all high and righteous? _Fuck _that!"

Megamind stood up, stinging with anger. "At least I'm paying my debt to society. And in case you've forgotten, _I'm _not the one on trial right now."

"You have _no right _to tell me what to do! You're not my father!"

He hadn't expected her to say _that. _

And he definitely hadn't expected it to hurt so much.

". . . I know I'm not your father," he said quietly. _Unlike him, I didn't leave you on the street when you were eleven. _"But I _am _your guardian, and the defender of this city –"

His communicator beeped. Minion's faintly scratchy voice rose, "Uh, Sir, not to interrupt, but we're supposed to go patrol?"

Megamind simultaneously blessed and cursed his fishy sidekick. "I'll be right there!" He looked back at the still-glaring Laurie. "I have to go, but this isn't over!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

As he slammed the door behind him, Megamind let out an angry, frustrated groan. _Of all the stubborn, vicious, ungrateful whelps . . ._

He froze. From the other side of the door, there came the sound of faint, but distinctive, sobbing.

_. . . Oh god. _

There was nothing like making a child cry to make you feel like the bad guy again.

* * *

><p>After dinner, Roxanne retreated into what Violet had dubbed "the fortress of sanity".<p>

Huge as the Lair's interior was, Megamind still managed to make it seem cluttered, filling every corner with half-finished projects and experiments. Rather than force him to clean up his workspace – the Lair was still _his_, after all – Roxanne had suggested they create a separate living area, where the residents could hang out and invite guests without having to worry about disturbing the genius hero's work. She had no regrets about moving into the Lair, but she did need a little peace and quiet sometimes.

She'd thought her beloved would probably wall off one of the corners inside. Instead, with the enthusiasm she found so attractive, he'd built an entirely new extension onto the outside.

They'd modeled it after Roxanne's old loft apartment. The ceiling rose to two stories, as did the window, which was so gigantic that it was more like a wall of glass. The actual walls were bare brick, but hung with the paintings and posters Roxanne had brought with her when she moved in. They'd installed shelves and moved in most of the books from the Lair's library corner, along with an enormous flatscreen TV. As a final touch, they'd brought Roxanne's big red couch down from storage.

Now she flopped down on said couch with a sigh. She nudged her shoes off and stretched out comfortably, settling a throw pillow under her head. Through the massive window, she could see the nighttime lights of Metro City across the dark waters of the harbor.

In a few weeks, she'd be standing in front of that window, speaking her vows. Her friends and family would be gathered in here . . . and that brought another aching thought.

She knew she shouldn't keep hoping that her mother would come to the wedding. Naomi Ritchi seldom acknowledged her surviving children unless she had to. She'd have Jason to walk her down the aisle, but that would be it for blood relatives.

She and Megamind had agreed that they should keep the gathering small – for security reasons, if nothing else. But still, she couldn't help feeling a little sad that _his _side of the guest list was turning out to be longer than hers. Out of the friends she'd invited from work, only Kenny, her cameraman, had accepted. The others had all given what sounded like legitimate excuses, but Roxanne couldn't shake the suspicion that some, at least, were staying away because they didn't approve of her choice in husbands.

She sat up a little as Reggie came in. The dark-haired boy had changed out of the jumpsuit and into his usual jeans and overshirt, and he carried a notebook under one arm.

He paused in his tracks as he saw her. "Um . . . will it bother you if I watch TV?"

Roxanne snuggled deeper into the couch. "No, go ahead. I'll probably go to bed soon."

Shrugging, Reggie took a seat on the far corner of the couch, propping his notebook open on one knee. He started to raise a hand toward the TV, then glanced at Roxanne and stopped himself.

She sighed. "It's okay. Look, Reggie, I don't want to be a killjoy! I think your powers are wonderful, and I'm fine with you using them _safely. _But you gave me a bad scare tonight!"

". . . I'm sorry," he said softly. He reached out and made a flicking gesture at the TV. Sparks danced on his fingertips, and the machine switched on. "I think I know what went wrong, though."

"Oh? Mind telling me?"

"It's the ankle restraints." Reggie snapped his fingers, changing channels, as he spoke. "They're not strong enough to hold my weight when I pull up sharp. If they were sturdier . . ." She could practically see the lightbulb click on over his head. "Yeah, that's it! Reinforce the nylon with wire, maybe some electronic locks . . ." He started scribbling furiously in the notebook.

Roxanne gave a soft chuckle. _No wonder he and Megamind get along so well. _

By now she was starting to feel better. It had been a long day, but it was nearly over. They'd all feel better in the morning, and then they could sort out what to do about Laurie, and everything else . . .

A voice from the TV turned her mood sour again. She rolled over and glared at the smiling, slickly handsome face of Devon Singer. Not for the first time, she wondered how he got his teeth so blindingly white – she suspected hazardous chemicals were involved.

"_. . . and I'm very pleased to have you folks here today," _Singer spoke to a small group of reporters. His voice had a pleasant Midwestern drawl. From the look of things, they were holding the interview in his corporate office. _"I'm always happy to speak to the public . . ." _

Reggie made a face. "Should I switch channels?"

"No, hold on." She sat up on the couch. "I didn't hear Mr. Singer was giving an interview today."

_I don't know why I'm surprised, though. _The man promoted himself and his company shamelessly, far more than Roxanne had ever seen a normal businessman do. That by itself didn't bother her – the company was less than a year old, and he could hardly be blamed for trying to drum up publicity.

But Devon Singer was picky about who he promoted himself to. Last fall, Roxanne had spent _weeks _trying to get an interview with the founder of up-and-coming Green Mountain Technologies. In reply, Singer had sent a memo to her bosses, saying that he would be happy to speak to anyone from KMCP _except _Roxanne Ritchi. He hadn't given a _reason _why he was avoiding her, but she'd soon figured it out.

She was tainted by association.

Leaning back casually in his office chair, Singer looked and acted more like a movie star than a businessman. _"As you know, I created this company with the hope that I could make products that are not only useful, but will make the world a better place, and benefit humanity for generations to come. It's always been my policy to be open and welcoming to questions about the nature of my work. I'm sure you know the image of the cold, scheming executive holed up in his office?" _Singer gave a friendly laugh. _"I swore I'd never be like that. I started out as a researcher, like my employees, and my favorite place to be is still out in the field . . ."_

"Sure it is," Reggie quipped at the TV. "You can't steal inventions if you're sitting behind a desk all day."

Roxanne groaned. "For the last time, we can't prove he stole anything." _I told Megamind that yard sale would come back to haunt us. _

"_Mr. Singer, there's a rumor going around that you've done some work with the city's defender,"_ one of the interviewers spoke up. _"Is it true?"_

Singer's smile faded, and his jaw tightened. His dark eyes narrowed as he replied, _"I don't know how such a rumor started, but I __**can **__tell you it's false. I'm proud to say that I've never needed Megamind's help in anything. Quite frankly, I don't want it." _

His smile slowly grew back. _"I won't deny the good that Metro Man did for us, but really, the time of the 'supers' ought to have ended with him. We've been dependent on their kind for far too long. The ones we have nowadays . . . well, they're next to useless. Megamind claims to be the most brilliant mind on the planet. If he truly wanted to atone for his past, you'd think he'd put that brain to __**use**__. Instead, he chases criminals in the streets, like a child playing cops and robbers." _Singer laughed again. _"We can do better. Not only Metro City, but humanity as a whole. Anything the 'supers' can do, the human race can re-create, with our own ingenuity and hard work. And __**we **__can see that it's used where we actually need it."_

It didn't escape Roxanne's or Reggie's notice that he kept the terms "super" and "human" separate.

"_Which is why I'm pleased to announce," _Singer went on, _"that Green Mountain will soon be launching its greatest project yet. This is the big one, the one I've really poured my heart into. The full details will be released next week, but in the meantime . . . well, let's just say it's going to light up the sky."_

The interviewers rose in a flurry of questions, but paused as a female voice spoke from off-screen. _"Mr. Singer?"_

Singer glanced in her direction. _"Oh . . . right. I'd like to introduce one of our most recent employees. She'll be playing a starring role in this new project . . ."_

The woman walked into camera range. She was somewhere in her thirties, and very tall, with the lean, willowy build of a supermodel. She wore jeans and a leather bomber jacket – shockingly casual for an office setting. Even tied up in a ponytail, her sandy blonde hair reached past her waist. Her face was pretty in a sharp, foxy sort of way, and she had a nice winter tan.

Roxanne's jaw dropped. It had been almost twenty years since she saw that face, but she recognized her even before Devon Singer gave her name.

"_Tori Oswell?"_

* * *

><p>Despite Singer's words, Megamind was not actually chasing criminals in the streets. It was turning out to be a slow night for Metro City's underworld population, to the blue hero's regret – he would have welcomed a distraction right now.<p>

As Minion drove the invisible car on its rounds, his master slumped in his seat, gazing out the window at the dark streets. "What have we gotten ourselves into, Minion?"

The fish swiveled in his dome. "What do you mean, Sir?"

"I knew having wards wouldn't be easy. But I didn't think it would be like _this._" The blue man sighed. "Maybe we were too young when we had them."

He told him what had happened with Laurie. "I know I'm supposed to punish her. But Minion, what she did _wasn't wrong. _Defending a helpless innocent, deciding to scare her foes instead of actually hurting them . . . those are the makings of a hero." Megamind paused. "Granted, I've been mistaken about that before –"

"No, I think you're right this time," Minion replied. "So what will you do?"

"_I don't know! _I can't _reward _her for being suspended from shool! But I also can't punish her without being seen as a high-po-creet." Megamind rubbed his massive forehead tiredly. "I'd _like _to train her. Actually, I'd like to train all of them – they'd be much stronger as a team. But I promised Roxanne I wouldn't force them to become superheroes. She's already mad at me because of Reggie, I can't risk upsetting her again! Especially not with the wedding so close!"

For a moment, Minion wished the two of them weren't professional heroes. If they didn't have to set an example, _he _wouldn't need to focus on his driving right now, and he could have reached over and given his unhappy, conflicted friend a hug.

"Sir, she's not gonna call it off just because you guys had an argument. She loves you. She knows she matters more to you than anything." The fish gave a toothy smile. "And hey, it's not like this is the worst thing you've ever done."

". . . True." The blue alien gazed back at him. "You do know she isn't the _only _person important to me, don't you? You're still my best friend. That isn't going to change. I . . . couldn't do any of this without you."

"I know. I just want you to be happy, no matter what." Minion shrugged his furry shoulders. "And you don't mind what I have with Violet, right?"

Megamind hesitated a moment too long before answering. ". . . Of course not. I did say you should make new friends, and you seem to be a good influence on her." A smile broke across his face. "But this business with Reggie is still your fault."

"Hey, how is it _my _fault?" The fish could tell his master wasn't serious, but he played along.

"It was _your_ idea to watch the entire _Back To The Future _trilogy that weekend that we were snowed in. If you hadn't done that, he wouldn't have asked me about creating a real hoverboard!"

"Oh, come on! You've seen the stuff he writes. He'd have gotten the idea sooner or later . . ."

The banter continued as the car drove on.

* * *

><p>Brainbot 64, nicknamed "Calgon", was part of the platoon of bots who performed most of the Lair's household chores. His assignment was to gather laundry from the designated hamper in each bedroom. When Minion had warned the teens that their clothes would never get to the wash if they just dropped them on the floor, he wasn't exaggerating.<p>

Calgon had been with Daddy and Minion for many years. He was one of the older brainbot models – clunkier, not as strong or agile as the security bots, but good at following a simple task. If he'd actually been a dog, instead of just having canine neural components in his cyborg "brain", he would have been the kind of loyal, plodding old hound who fetches the paper and lies across doorways because he thinks being stepped on is a sign of love.

He flew slowly down the upstairs hall. Since the two youngest females often left the most clothes, Calgon had learned to check their room first. His grasping claws turned the knob, and he stretched his optic out to peer inside.

The tall, noisy young female who made things hot was lying on her bed. Normally, Calgon would have ignored her and continued with his task, but she was making sounds that he knew meant pain or distress. Daddy had said that the young humans should be looked after, so he flew over to check on her.

Laurie bit her lip as she tried to stop the tears. Dammit, she _hated _crying! She'd learned early in life that it didn't help anything. People either ignored it or saw it as a sign of weakness, and a girl fending for herself could never let anyone think she was weak.

She didn't _like _hurting people, but it was the only way she knew to survive. If someone came after you, and you couldn't run, you had to go berserk and fight with everything you had. If you didn't, death wasn't the worst thing that could happen. And you had to look after those who couldn't fight for themselves, or nobody would.

It just wasn't _fair!_ Why did _she _have to be the only one with powers that didn't do anything but destroy? Lucia could create music out of thin air. Reggie helped Megamind with his inventions. Even James (her heart warmed when she thought of James, then cooled as she remembered he'd ratted on her) could grow flowers and vegetables and things.

All she could do was burn stuff.

Oh god, Megamind must think she was a monster now. _Why _had she said all that stuff? Weird blue ex-villain or now, he'd saved her life and given her a home. That summer, he'd tried to help her catch up on her schoolwork. He'd already been more of a father than her real dad ever had been.

But admitting you were wrong was also a sign of weakness.

Laurie noticed the laundry bot hovering beside her bed. When she'd first moved in, the flying, glowing packs of cyborgs had creeped her out a little, but now she kind of liked them. She'd never had a pet as a child.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she held out a hand to the brainbot. "Hey."

Calgon _bowg_ed softly, then nudged her hand. The lines of electricity in his plasma dome flickered under her touch. Without needing to be told, he nuzzled closer to her. His metal-and-glass body was faintly warm, so Laurie rested her cheek on his dome, and held him.

_**To be continued . . .**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **And, once again, nothing much happens. I'm sorry, I really am, there's just a lot of stuff to set up! Hopefully it's not **too **boring. _

_On another note, this is the closest thing to porn I've ever posted :P I've tried to write the real thing, but my brain keeps wanting to make it snarky and comical, which really doesn't work. Oh well. _

* * *

><p>C<strong>hapter 3<strong>

Roxanne didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, but she woke with her face smooshed against the back cushion and her bra twisted into new and uncomfortable places under her blouse.

Someone – she suspected Minion – had draped a knitted blanket over her while she slept, but she shivered even so. Through the giant picture window, she could see the sky turning from velvety black to deep, icy blue. Night always seemed coldest just before dawn. She rubbed one foot against her shin, trying to warm up, and wondered if she still had time to sneak up to her bed for a few hours of sleep.

"Roxanne? Are you awake?"

She looked up. In the darkness, she could see Megamind leaning over the back of the couch, gazing down at her. The first time Roxanne had seen his usual sleepwear, she'd remarked that it took a very confident man to wear pajamas with little hazard symbols and a flared collar. Megamind, to her amusement, took it as a challenge, and had made a point of wearing the pajamas just to prove how confident he was.

The reporter rolled onto her back and stretched out. "Ngh, what does it look like?"

The blue alien smirked. "I understand that when couples have a dispute, it's customary for the partner who was in the wrong to sleep on the couch. Does this mean you admit you were wrong?"

"I admit nothing," she muttered sleepily. She turned onto her side again, giving him the (literal) cold shoulder.

Megamind's heart sank. That night, when he'd returned from patrol to find Roxanne absent from their bedroom, he'd been terrified for a moment that she'd _left_, despite what Minion had said in the car. Fortunately they'd quickly tracked her down, and he'd decided to let her sleep where she was.

Over the course of their relationship, the two of them had found that when they had a serious argument, distance was the best thing. It had been easier when they lived separately – they could retreat to their own residences, where they'd calm down and quickly start to miss each other. Growing up in prison, Megamind had learned to cultivate privacy as a state of mind. But Roxanne was used to living on her own, and she'd had to adjust.

This was the first time she'd ever gone as far as to sleep in a separate room. The blue hero had known he'd have to act fast to mend the situation, and had woken up early in the hope of doing just that.

He noticed her shiver again as she burrowed deeper into the couch. "Aren't you cold? It's much warmer upstairs," he tried to sound tempting.

"'M too cold to move." Roxanne looked up gain, her blue eyes half-lidded. "Think you could warm me up?"

Megamind recalled a line from a movie Lucia was fond of. "As you wish."

He slid underneath the blanket with her and held her close. His slim, hairless frame meant he lost heat easily (those tight leather outfits weren't just for show), and she took full advantage of that now, absorbing his warmth for herself as she snuggled against him, enjoying the soft fuzziness of his pajamas and the lean, hard shape of his body against hers.

"Are you still mad at me?" He shifted a little to look at her.

She sighed. "I'm not mad at you. But I still wasn't wrong. You shouldn't be letting Reggie test dangerous equipment like that."

"It was –"

"I _know _it was his idea. But you didn't have to go along with it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather he tested it on his own, with no supervision or safety gear? Because that's what he would have done if I'd said no."

"And what makes you so sure of that?"

"He has the _spark, _Roxanne. The passion for creation. When he has an idea, he won't rest until it's given life."

_And you'd know, wouldn't you? _she thought wryly. "He's only fourteen."

"So?" The blue man hooked one leg over hers. "I was his age when I began my career as a supervillain. Metro Mahn was his age, the first time we battled."

"And –"

Roxanne stopped herself. She'd been about to say "and look how _that_ turned out", but . . . she couldn't. It would be too hurtful. Everything that had happened as a result of "that" – the epic battles, the kidnappings, the publicity, the vast destruction – had also been part of what ultimately brought them together. If he'd never been a villain, and she'd never been his hostage of choice . . . she liked to think they still would have found each other, but really, there was no knowing how it would have turned out.

"But that wasn't really what you wanted, was it?" she finally did say. "Either of you. You did it because you thought it was what you were destined for."

"And now I think destiny is the path we choose for ourselves." He stroked her hair, smoothing one silky lock between his fingers. "Perhaps this is what Reggie's chosen. Laurie too; I found out she was using her powers in defense of the innocent."

That _was _a relief to hear, Roxanne had to admit. ". . . Are you thinking of training them?" She kept her tone neutral, genuinely curious as to what he'd say.

"I'd _like _to," he admitted quietly. "But I don't want to single the two of them out for special treatment. It would have to be all or nothing. And I know how much the whole idea worries you . . ."

"I won't deny it worries me." She rubbed her forehead gently against his, mimicking the affectionate gesture he often used on her. "But maybe it would be okay. You're doing an amazing job with the kids so far." She smirked. "You really threw yourself into the deep end of the parenting pool, you know."

"Yes, I've come to realize that." In the dark, his green eyes were almost luminous. "And dragged you with me."

"Hey." She kissed his brow. "I'm still here, aren't it?" She cupped his cheek, letting him feel the warm metal of her ring against his skin. "You captured me, and now you're stuck with me."

He chuckled, pulled her hand away and kissed her palm. "Then you still wish to become my evil queen?"

"You _do _know you're not evil or royal, right?"

"That doesn't mean _you _can't be." His smile faded. He shifted on the couch, gazing away from her and out at the lightening sky. ". . . It doesn't bother you, does it?"

There were so many things "it" could mean, Roxanne reflected. "What doesn't?"

"That I'm not royalty." He sighed. "Or if I am, I'm not aware of it."

". . . Oh."

She understood what this was about now. He was thinking of his lost homeworld, and all the things about himself and his people that he didn't know, and never would. He and Minion had shared some of their memories with her – she'd told them it was extraordinary they could remember anything at all – but now that she thought about it, he'd been dwelling on those thoughts more and more as the wedding plans went underway.

He wasn't bringing any of his own culture to the occasion (unless you counted the rock and roll touches). If his people had their own ceremonies and traditions for marriage, he didn't know them. He didn't even have a family name to share with her.

She nuzzled his neck, breathing in his warm, musky scent. His pulse quickened under her lips. "You know it doesn't bother me. You're a self-made man, and I admire that. More people should."

". . . I _am_ quite admirable, yes."

"I never planned to change my name anyway, if I ever got married. I like it the way it is. It's catchy, and I've built my professional identity with it."

"I must admit, 'Roxanne Blue' doesn't have quite the same ring."

She chuckled. "It sounds like a paint sample."

"My thoughts exactly." He turned back onto his side again, gazing into her eyes. "I rid myself of that ridiculous name as soon as I could. I wouldn't bestow it in my worst enemy, let alone the love of my life."

Roxanne wondered when she'd ever actually heard someone use the phrase "love of my life". That was Megamind for you – what would sound cheesy coming from anyone else became endearing when he said it.

She clasped his hand and brought it to her heart. Then, suddenly mischievous, she sucked the tip of one long blue finger into her mouth, watching him shudder and blush furiously. More than two years together, and it was still so easy to get him riled up.

His arms tightened around her. Their lips met as he rolled halfway on top of her, his thigh rubbing between her legs in _intriguing _ways.

She broke the kiss long enough to murmur, "Mm, maybe we should continue this upstairs."

Megamind pouted. "But I'm comfortable where I am." He nudged his groin against her hip, letting her feel how "comfortable" he was getting. "It's not as if we haven't had amorous lee-aye-zons on this couch before."

"We didn't have to worry about people walking in then."

"I assure you, we won't be disturbed at this hour."

"Come on, my bra's all twisted –"

"Mm, then let me help."

"Hey, quit it!" She squirmed from his grasp, giggling. "Look, I'm going upstairs with or without you."

"Oh, fine," the blue alien huffed. He got to his feet, moving a little awkwardly. "When we get to Grand Cayman, I swear I'm having our door hermetically sealed."

She laughed. "Fine. We can climb out the window when we want to go to the beach. And I know _you _wanted to see the iguanas."

"They really are blue, as you said?"

"Not quite _this_ vibrant a shade." She ran her warm hand over his sensitive scalp, making him purr and pull her close again. "But yes, the ones in the reserve really are blue. Ten years ago there were only a few dozen of them left, but they've been breeding them. Now there are hundreds."

As the two of them climbed the stairs, Roxanne found herself thinking of the blue iguanas, brought back from the brink of extinction. Their world had changed, and they'd probably never be as numerous as they'd once been, but at least they'd never be _gone. _

It . . . resonated. She told herself it shouldn't – people weren't lizards! – but . . . it did.

When her relationship with Megamind had turned sexual, the question of whether she had to worry about getting pregnant had, naturally, come up. "It's not impossible," he'd told her. He'd studied his own biology off-and-on over the years, and found that his genetic structure was uncannily close to human (which had left him with even _more _questions about his homeworld). Just to be safe, she'd started taking birth control – with how chaotic and changing their lives had been back then, a baby was the very last thing they'd needed.

Roxanne had never longed for motherhood. She'd _liked_ the idea of having kids someday, but wouldn't have felt her life was wasted if it never happened. For a long time, it had looked like it _wouldn't _happen – she'd been caught in the middle of the hero-villain game, with no romantic prospects and no time to even _imagine _raising a child.

But the game was over now. The rules had changed. Life was still chaotic, and probably always would be, but she was learning to live with it. As she'd once told Megamind, "normal" was in the eye of the beholder.

She thought back to her talk with Lucia last night, when she'd realized she really was playing the role of a mother. The feelings were new and complicated, but . . . they weren't unwelcome.

. . . Well, they didn't have to decide anything right now. Right now she had a horny blue alien kissing and fondling her, and it was getting extremely hard to think about anything at all.

* * *

><p>Later that morning, on the other side of town, a lone figure stood on a balcony, gazing out at the sunrise.<p>

In another life, Wayne Scott wouldn't have been able to enjoy it. He would have been compelled keep his super-senses on alert, watching and listening for any sign of trouble. When he'd first thought about moving back into the city, he'd been afraid he might fall back into old habits. But nearly three years of practice had taught him to tune out the troubles of the world. He knew they still went on, but they were safely in the mental realm of "someone else's problem".

The air was only slightly above freezing, but although Wayne was barefoot and wearing only sweatpants and a T-shirt, he didn't notice. There was no need to give up _all _the advantages of his powers.

"Morning, Music Man," Danielle Dymond's voice came from behind him. She padded out onto the balcony, bundled up in one of his robes (which made her look like a child playing dress-up in daddy's clothes). "You trying to practice that 'lonely brooding artist' look?"

The ex-hero grinned. "That depends. What do you think of it?" He tried to sweep his hair back dramatically. The morning breeze refused to cooperate, however, and blew it back into his face.

Danielle chuckled. "Might need a little more work." She nodded back toward the sliding glass door of the balcony. "Do you think you could practice inside? Not all of us are immune to the cold."

Smiling, Wayne followed her back inside.

The apartment they shared was "bohemian", which is advertising code for "small and _artistically _shabby". They'd moved into it several months ago, after Wayne had stayed over at Danielle's place so many times that she'd quipped he "might as well _live _here and help with the rent and the groceries". She'd meant it as a joke, but Wayne had found he liked the idea.

His solitary fortress under the old schoolhouse was, well, _solitary. _It had been fine for the first year or so after he retired from heroism; he'd needed time alone with his thoughts, away from distraction, not to mention away from anyone who might recognize him. His hideout had most of the comforts of home, so why risk exposing his identity by taking up residence somewhere else?

But . . . he loved Danielle. And, considering she'd still wanted to keep dating him after she learned his secret, even though she'd been one of the few law-abiding citizens who hated Metro Man, he was pretty sure she loved him too.

They _balanced _each other. She kept him grounded, and helped him with things that, as a famous superhero and son of the richest couple in the city, he'd never had to deal with before, like paying bills and shopping on a budget. Technically, he was still rich – some very discreet arrangements immediately after his "death" had created accounts he could tap into without raising suspicion. He'd known it might take a little while to launch his music career, and he'd have to eat in the meantime.

But Danielle had refused to let Scott money pay for anything in her life. She _would, _however, accept money that Music Man earned, so they'd been able to afford this place together, for the sake of starting on new ground.

"I don't think the brooding look is really you," she said, with that warm, sweet smile he loved so much. "All your best songs are the ones about hope and heroism. You should work with that."

Wayne picked her up for a kiss, supporting her weight on one arm as he carried her toward the couch. The collar of the oversized robe fell off her shoulders, revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. "I don't get you, Dee. You hated it when I actually went out and fought evil, but you like it when I sing about it?"

"Yeah, I do. Music _inspires _people. Gets them to go out and change the world themselves." She stroked his beard. "We listen to your stuff down at the station sometimes."

He kissed one bare brown shoulder. "I wish the record companies felt the way you do."

"C'mon, you'll get a deal one of these days. Just keep working at iiii-" she trailed off as his lips moved somewhere else. "Mmh, hey, we don't have time for this! Mom's gonna be here in a few minutes!"

"I could use superspeed."

She frowned. "Didn't you say you'd die if you kept using that power? That it's why you ended up looking like this?" She ran her fingers through the graying hair at his temples.

"Hey, it's just a theory. I could be wrong." He lay back on the couch, settling her on top of him. "It might be worth testing it."

Danielle, to his great delight, had only been a little apprehensive their first time together. Saying things like "I won't break if you get a little rough" wasn't a good idea when your partner could bend steel beams and crush coal into diamond. He _could _control his strength – playing the guitar had been good practice, since music so often distracted him – but they'd still had to be slow and careful at first. With practice, though, they'd learned what they could do, and he no longer worried about hurting her in the heat of the moment.

She laughed. "Next thing you're gonna want to do it flying in the air."

Wayne imagined this, and had to stop himself from ravishing her.

Their interlude came to a screeching halt as someone knocked on the front door. "Dani? Mister Wayne?" a lightly accented female voice called.

Danielle's eyes shot wide. "Oh crud, _Mom!_" She leapt off of Wayne like a scalded cat and vaulted over the couch, tripping over the folds of the robe as she raced for the bedroom.

Wayne, noting his own state of amorous disarray, hurriedly called "We'll be just a moment, Mrs. Dymond!"

"Oh, you take your time," Danielle's mother called back. Even without super-hearing, Wayne could hear her giggling on the other side of the door.

As they frantically dressed, Danielle hissed at him, "This is your fault, just so you know! You had to be i_so/i _goddamn charming at Christmas. Now she's over here every other day and I get no friggin' privacy!"

"Aw, I like her."

"You would," Danielle scoffed. "She's _crazy _about you. And so is Dad. I think you're the first boyfriend I've ever had that they both approved of."

"Why can't you just be happy about that?" He gave her a serious look. "Dee, I've lost both my parents. Twice over," he added, for sympathy points. "I _like _having family around again."

Danielle finished pulling a sweater over her head. "Okay, okay. But if she asks about grandchildren again, _you're_ dealing with it."

* * *

><p>Once they let her in, Lydia Flores-Dymond headed for the kitchen and began making breakfast, over Danielle's protests. "It's no trouble, honey. I like to do things for my children."<p>

"She does it to show me up," Danielle grumbled. "She thinks I can't take care of myself."

Wayne, who couldn't remember Lady Scott ever cooking him a meal in her life, said nothing.

The former hero been deeply nervous when Danielle brought him to her family's Christmas gathering. Before, when he'd met a girlfriend's parents (which hadn't happened often), he'd known he could count on his powers and his fortune to make a good impression. But now he was only a struggling wannabe-musician, so he'd turned on the full power of his old charm to make them like him.

He needn't have worried, it turned out. Danielle's parents both had a strong romantic streak, and when he'd told them the personal history he'd invented for himself – that he was an ex-Special Ops man "not at liberty to talk about it", but had left that life behind to pursue his love of music – they'd been won over easily.

He watched Lydia and her daughter as they chatted around the table. They were the same height, and had the same high cheekbones and black, almond-shaped eyes. Lydia's skin, however, was several shades lighter, and her iron-gray hair fell in a smooth cascade down her back, in contrast to Danielle's cloud of velvety curls.

"There was another bank robbery yesterday," his girlfriend said. "We were lucky this time, though. We stopped them cold. During the last one, one of the guys managed to get away with most of the money." She gazed at her fork, thinking. "Don't quote me on this, but it feels like something big's going on. All the bank robberies, that break-in at the chemical plant last month, the freight hijacking . . ." She shook her head. "It all says 'supervillain' to me, but it's _not. _Supervillains leave calling cards. They can't resist the attention," she added with a sneer. "And we haven't been able to get a connection out of the guys we _did_ collar."

"Well, what does Megamind have to say?" Lydia asked brightly. "Surely he of all people would be able to tell if there was a plot afoot?"

Danielle's shoulders tensed. "He's . . . got other things on his mind these days."

"I'll say he does!" Lydia beamed, clearly having found a topic of conversation she liked. "I think it's so sweet, a man changed for the love of a good woman!"

Wayne coughed as he swallowed his bite. "You know, there's more to the story than that."

Lydia ignored him. "And lucky, lucky Alicia has an invitation! I've made her promise to tell me everything, of course . . ."

Wayne and Danielle exchanged a worried look as she went on. They hadn't planned to tell her that they too would be going to the wedding. It raised too many questions that they didn't have answers prepared for. Why would Megamind and Roxanne Ritchi consider _them – _a musician with a shady past, and a cop who was notoriously cold to all superheroes – important enough to invite to such an exclusive event?

But if Alicia Sanders was also going to be there, they wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. Danielle's aunt wasn't exactly a gossip, but she didn't believe in hiding the truth, especially from family. They'd have to come up with more stories now . . .

". . . And it never hurts to think about the future," Lydia finished her monologue. She gave Danielle a teasing smile. "I still wouldn't mind a grandchild, you know."

Danielle pointed her fork at Wayne. "Take it away, Mister Skye."

Wayne gulped, trying to think of what he could tell her. "Sorry, but I'm a superpowered alien who's incapable of breeding with humans" probably wouldn't work, especially since he didn't know if the last part was true. There certainly hadn't been any women claiming they'd had Metro Man's love-child, but then, he'd never been the kind of guy who slept around, and he'd always been careful (in more ways than one). He'd seen the museum displays, all the exhibits that reminded him how _inhuman _he was, but . . . _couldn't _it be possible?

He imagined a human trying to gestate a superpowered baby, and had to block out images of Sigourney Weaver movies.

"Well, Mrs. Dymond, we're really not at that point yet," he said at last. "I like your daughter, don't get me wrong, but I think we're happy the way we are right now." He glanced over at Danielle. "Am I right, Dee?"

Danielle smiled with relief. "Definitely. We're not in a hurry. Besides, Mom, you _have _grandchildren. Leon's got two kids."

"But they live in Indianapolis!" Lydia pouted. "And Benny and Ramona are still single. You're my best hope!"

That had been another new experience for Wayne. Growing up, he'd been an only child, with no relatives except for his parents and a few, mostly elderly aunts and uncles. He'd been the center of attention at every family gathering, fawned over and asked to show off his talents (there was one incident involving laser vision and mince pie that was never spoken of again). Danielle, on the other hand, had two brothers, a sister, a niece and nephew, and a multitude of cousins, who had all been friendly but not very interested in him once introductions were over. It was . . . nice, to be with family at Christmas again.

Or it _had _been, until Danielle's brother Benedict pointed out how funny it was that her boyfriend looked and sounded so much like the late Metro Man. Wayne had managed to laugh it off ("I get that a lot"), but it had still been a nasty shock.

The more people he let himself get close to, the more danger there was that someone might figure out his secret. He knew his chances of getting a record deal would be better if he hired a manager, or made more friends in the music industry, but the risk was too great. And if he _did _land a deal, and became famous again . . .

Wayne hated to admit it, but the charade couldn't last.

* * *

><p>Suspension, Minion had agreed with his boss, did not mean Laurie should be allowed to sit idle for the rest of the week. The cyborg fish had seen to it that she was rousted from her bed at the same time as the other kids. He'd made her extra breakfast, since she hadn't had dinner the night before, and once the other four had left for school, he'd set her to doing extra chores around the Lair. "If she really does want great responsibility, maybe we'd better start her off small."<p>

Right now she was in the laundry, helping Calgon and the other household brainbots, while Minion was finishing up in the kitchen. The fish wondered if he should be the one to go speak to the school when her sentence was up – Megamind was the teens' legal guardian, but Minion thought of them as _his _wards too – but his thoughts trailed off as he heard the voices of his master and Miss Ritchi approaching.

For a moment, it sounded like they were arguing again. But . . . no, he knew that tone. His friend was irritated about something, and grouchy because he couldn't do anything to fix it.

Minion looked up as they approached. "What's the matter, Sir?"

The blue alien crossly folded his arms across his chest. "Roxanne is con-soor-ting with the enemy."

"_Thinking _of consorting," said the reporter. "And aren't you being a little melodramatic? Devon Singer's an asshole, I agree, but can you really call him 'the enemy'? Especially when you've actually had to deal with real enemies?"

"Roxanne, _he stole my designs!_"

"He did, Miss Ritchi," Minion added, feeling he should stick up for his friend. "I took a look at that new desalination filter Green Mountain made last year. It's almost an exact copy of the device we used when we turned the city water supply into gelatin. He just reversed a few pieces."

"And their new sonic mining drill is merely a scaled-down version of my seismic cannon," the blue genius insisted. "Even their solar-powered barbecue was clearly inspired by my ideas!"

Roxanne pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, you're probably right. I'm just saying that there are other, perfectly good reasons to hate Singer. Didn't you _want _the people who bought your 'evil stuff'," she airquoted, thinking with amusement that the two aliens were rubbing off on her, "to use it for non-evil purposes?"

Megamind hesitated. ". . . Ye-es. But I hoped they would credit me, not dispar-odge my name with every other breath!"

That, Minion knew, was the core of the problem with Devon Singer and his company.

They hadn't realized right away that the vitriolic CEO was the same quiet research scientist who'd made several purchases at the ill-fated Evil Lair Yard Sale. It was amazing what contact lenses, a new haircut, and a name change could do.

It had taken Megamind and Minion most of a week to retrieve all their 'evil stuff' – plenty of time for someone who understood technology to examine his purchases and take notes, especially if he'd caught wind that they'd be reclaimed soon. When Megamind had decided to patent his inventions instead of selling them directly, he hadn't thought to include the ones on that particular customer's receipt. So, when Green Mountain Technologies had copied the designs (and, he had to admit, put them to good use), the alien genius couldn't make a legal fuss without looking petty and selfish and un-heroic.

It grated on his nerves. He could deal with people speaking ill of him (he'd been dealing with it all his life), and he could deal with them wanting to use his creations for their own purposes, but he'd never had to deal with someone who did both. And the worst part was that he couldn't _do _anything about it. As Roxanne had put it to her brother, "being a smug bastard isn't against the law".

"Which is all the more reason I should talk to Victoria," Roxanne went on. "She and I used to be best friends. Maybe I can make her our ally on the inside."

Megamind's glower turned into a gleam of interest. "How very scheming of you."

"Hey, it's not the _only _reason I want to get in touch with her," Roxanne protested. "But that doesn't mean we can't all benefit from it. She might even be able to give me the inside scoop on Singer's new project."

Her fiancé groaned. "What's he come up with this time?"

"He hasn't announced all the details yet. All he said was that it would 'light up the sky'."

Megamind and Minion both froze. They exchanged looks of what Roxanne realized was actual _fear. _

"You don't think he could have –"

"He _did _buy it –"

"Surely it's too advanced –"

"He wouldn't be crazy enough –"

"Um, hi?" Roxanne waved at them. "Mind telling me what you're so worried about?"

Minion answered her first. He swiveled in his dome, fins fluttering nervously. "Dev-" He decided he might as well use the name on the receipt. "_Devadas Singh _bought three things at the sale, Miss Ritchi. The water gelatinizer, the seismic cannon . . . and the Anti-Climatizer."

Roxanne closed her eyes, trying to recall. "Wait, don't tell me. I remember that name. It was . . . the weather control machine, right?" She smirked, and swept her arms, imitating one of Megamind's grandiose gestures. "Shiver in fear, Metrocity, as I crank the AC up to full blast!"

"Ha-ha, see how I laugh," Megamind replied, deadpan.

"Hey, _you _had me chained to a cliff, over the lake, in the middle of a hurricane. I almost caught pneumonia."

". . . Point taken. But that's not important right now!" Megamind's look became serious. "I haven't often been _relieved_ when Metro Mahn foiled one of my plans, Roxanne, but the Anti-Climatizer was one of those times. If Singer's managed to re-create it, we're in very serious trouble."

* * *

><p>Hot Flash grimaced as she swallowed down the last of her coffee. The stuff they served at the Metro City Women's Correctional Center was weak and sour, and they used that vile powder for creamer. She mentally added "visit Starbucks" to her list of "things I'll do once I'm out of here".<p>

_A little fire work will probably make them offer it on the house, too. _

She'd had some idea of what she was in for after Megamind captured her last year. Charlene Rosen had been in prison a few times when she was younger. Petty theft, some drug charges, that one boyfriend she'd knifed – nothing worth bragging about. She'd hoped, now that she was a supervillain instead of a small-time criminal, she might receive special treatment. People bent the rules for 'supers'.

_Including the rules about cruel and unusual punishment, _the villainess thought bitterly. She rubbed at the thick plastic collar locked around her neck, feeling the humming circuitry inside. Matching bracelets were fastened around her wrists and ankles. She was never allowed to take them off, even in the shower – their sensors monitored her metabolic reactions. If her body temperature rose high enough, alarms would go off, and the bare, fireproof chamber where she spent almost all her time would fill with a mix of extinguisher and knockout gas (getting the flu last November had been _fun_).

But that would all change in a few days.

Hot Flash set her cup down on the food tray. Adjusting the kerchief they let her wear over her bald head (that fateful radiation experiment had cured her illness and given her powers, but also ruined any chance of her hair growing back), she lay down on her bunk, hearing the fireproof sheets crinkle. She picked a magazine off the floor – the prison staff had figured she couldn't do much damage with a few sheets of paper – and began leafing through it.

Hidden among the pages were the messages Mike Venner had managed to slip to her during his visits, and she read over them again now with a frown. The Doom Syndicate had no intention of starting over from scratch; their contacts on the outside were trying hard to make sure they'd have resources ready and waiting when they came back.

Not trying hard enough, as far as she was concerned. _Since when did the police in this town actually become __**competent?**_

Not for the first time, Hot Flash wished she and her comrades had approached Megamind during his brief reign as Evil Overlord. But the Doom Syndicate had been just as shocked as everyone else when he actually i_won/i, _so they'd lain low, waiting to see how things would turn out.

Better yet, she thought with a smirk, they should have approached that hunk Tighten. Someone like that – powerful, easily manipulated, and full of anger – could do _wonders _if they had him on their side. She'd dropped a few hints to Venner about the possibility of breaking Hal Stewart out with them, but the guard had told her it would be a waste. The man was heavily guarded, completely de-powered, and, sadly, nowhere near as hunky as he'd been in the news broadcasts.

The villainess sighed. Well, that was the future that _might _have been.

But the Doom Syndicate _would _have to change tactics now. With Metro Man gone, they'd thought it would be easy to run rampant through the city – either Megamind would go easy on them as fellow villains, or his record of failure would follow him and he'd be too incompetent to stop them. Instead, he'd gone after them with startling ferocity. From what Hot Flash knew of psychology, she suspected he saw them as everything he'd like to forget about his own past.

The Doom Syndicate had wanted a game, and he'd turned it into a war.

Hot Flash grinned. _Then we'll __**give**__ him a war. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>To be continued . . .<strong>_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Are you sure we can't make these in a different shade?" Violet frowned as she examined a half-finished gown on a hangar. "I'm telling you, blue's not my color."

"And _I'm _telling you, you're gonna look beautiful." Minion looked up from the alterations he was making to a white cape with silver-and-turquoise trim. "Go ahead, check. See if I'm lying."

Violet closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating. ". . . I can tell you _believe _it, but that doesn't make it true."

"Vie, you know blue is the theme color for the wedding. It took weeks to find a shade that looks good on all five of you." He grinned. "Look at it this way. Laurie and Lucia are going to be wearing the same dress. At least you'll look awful together."

That got a smile out of her. "Uniforms for the honor guard, right?"

"Exactly."

Back when the wedding plans had begun in earnest, Megamind had insisted the kids play a part in the ceremony. He knew all too well how much it hurt to be left out of social events, and besides, as his wards, they counted as family. Instead of dividing girls and boys into bridesmaids and groomsmen, he and Roxanne had decided to share attendants. The "honor guard" title had been Minion's idea, based on research he'd done about wedding traditions.

The cyborg fish loved designing new outfits for his boss. It was one of his favorite parts of the minion gig. He had a keen eye for color and shape, and loved any chance to play with lavish, exotic designs (he was still very proud of the Black Mamba). It had taken Minion some time to come to terms with his ward growing up and taking a mate (having Violet and other the teens to care for had helped), but once he had, he'd happily stepped in to design the wedding costumes. In fact, he'd been so full of ideas that it was nearly impossible to get them all visualized, especially since he still had all his regular duties to attend to.

Violet had turned out to be a great help with that as well. The girl had a strong artistic streak, and because she spent much of her time with Minion anyway, she'd gladly offered to assist him with the project. He'd been embarrassed about it at first, but he'd come to appreciate having an assistant. Especially one with such unique talents . . .

"They're kind of plain for dress uniforms, though," Violet went on. "Shouldn't they have, I dunno, some shoulder guards? Or maybe a sash?" She swept one hand down her chest to illustrate.

"I was just thinking something like that," Minion said. He pinched the dress's cap sleeves, lifting them up. "The shoulder guards can go across here, where they can hold up the sash. I've got a few designs in mind –"

"Could I see them?"

Minion paused. He knew what she meant. "You mean to take down sketches? Uh . . . sure."

They'd discovered this particular side of Violet's powers several months ago, when Metro City had been in the middle of its worst winter in fifteen years. Blizzard after blizzard had trapped the city in ice, snow, and darkness. On a rare clear day, while Megamind had gone out to help in the city, Minion had equipped the Spiderbot with a mega-sized snowblower and started clearing the grounds around the Lair. As he'd been dealing with a cluster of huge, dangerous icicles, one of them had fallen wrong, and Minion's glass dome, weakened by the cold, had been badly cracked.

Violet had been first on the scene as he came back inside. She'd sensed his shock and distress the instant he was hit, and worriedly offered to help him out of the broken, leaking dome.

Normally, Minion would have said no. He was still capable of getting out of the suit by himself – the robotic parts weren't damaged. But more than that, the fish felt incredibly vulnerable when he was out of his suit, and didn't like having anyone pick him up except Sir or Miss Ritchi. But it was the first time he'd seen Violet make the first move to touch another person so closely, and she was always quiet and careful in what she did . . . Minion had decided to trust her.

As she'd gently carried him to one of his exercise tanks, Minion had started thinking of ways to protect his suit in the future. He'd envisioned a thicker, insulated dome with a heated forcefield . . . and Violet had _seen _the picture in her own mind, just as clearly as if she'd imagined it herself, and been so startled that she nearly dropped the alien fish.

Since then, however, they'd learned to put that power to use. Minion knelt down beside the sewing table and opened the hatch on his dome. His toothy face peered out, and Violet gently touched one fingertip to his scaly-soft brow.

As he kept the clothing designs focused in his mind's eye, letting the girl see them as he did, Minion thought back to his talk with his master a few days ago. Megamind had _said _he didn't mind how close his friend and Violet were. They didn't share thoughts by touch often, but now that he thought about it, it was awfully intimate. Maybe he should . . .

"Okay, I think I've got it," the girl announced. She broke the touch, grabbed her sketchbook from the table, and began drawing furiously. "Is this what you had in mind?"

Minion looked down at his imaginings reproduced on paper. "Perfect! And everyone can pick out the material they want for their own sash. It'll let you guys show your colors, so to speak," he added.

Violet's eyes lit up. "Can I pick mine now? Please?"

Minion chuckled. With her incredible powers and traumatic past, it was easy to forget that she was still a teenaged girl who loved costumes and dressing up. "Sure, go ahead. Why don't you take a look in the fabric bin to start?"

While Violet did just that, Minion returned to his work on the white cape. He paused, however, as Roxanne walked into the sewing room. "Oh, hi Miss Ritchi."

One of Violet's hands briefly surfaced in greeting.

"You know, you can just call me Roxanne," the reporter said, smiling. "I'm not going to be a 'Miss' anymore."

Minion shrugged his furry shoulders. "What about 'Mrs. Ritchi'?"

"Oh please no," she declared. "It makes me sound like my mother."

"She's got a point," Violet spoke up from the depths of the fabric bin. "_I_call her Roxanne, and you've known her a lot longer than I have."

"Hey, it's different for us," Minion protested. "She and I have a professional history."

"With emphasis on the _history_," Roxanne said. "Meaning it doesn't apply anymore. But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

Glad to change the subject, Minion asked, "So what's on your mind?"

"I know it's kind of short notice," Roxanne admitted, "but I had a few more thoughts for my wedding dress that I wanted to discuss." She walked over to the wardrobe where the nearly-finished dress waited.

Minion's face fell. "I thought you liked what we came up with? It's a nice traditional design, and it's nearly finished!"

"I _do_ like it," she insisted. "But that's just it. It's _too_traditional. Megamind and I were talking a few days ago, and I, well . . ." She hesitated, glanced to see that Violet was still busy, and lowered her voice. "How much to you remember about the clothes his people wore?"

"Not a lot," the fish admitted. "I spent most of my time with my own kind before the two of us left. You'd have better luck if you asked him yourself."

"I know," she said softly. "But I was kind of hoping to surprise him."

". . . Well, maybe we can come up with something," Minion said. Her idea was very touching, and he didn't want to disappoint her. "I do remember a little. If you have some time, we can get started."

Violet spoke up again. "Before you do that, can I have this?"

She held up a square of cloth about four feet across. At first glance, it looked like a sheet of polished silver, but it rippled like silk as Violet moved it.

Roxanne's eyebrows rose. "Where did you guys get that? It's beautiful!" She went over to examine it with Violet.

"Heh, I'd forgotten we still had that stuff," Minion chuckled. "Sir came up with that new type of metamaterial about ten years ago."

Roxanne lifted one corner, and saw that the material was perfectly see-through on its reverse side, like a one-way mirror. "What was he doing, trying to make an invisibility cloak?"

Minion looked embarrassed. "Hey, Harry Potter was all the rage back then!"

"So why didn't Megamind use it?" Violet asked. "It's nice stuff." She briefly covered her face with the mirror-like cloth. "You can see through it just fine. Breathable, too."

"Because it doesn't actually _work_," Minion explained. "See? It's just a mirror on this side. You're not really _invisible_. All he made was that one swatch before he moved on."

"Does that mean I can have it?" Violet repeated. "Once it's done as a sash, maybe I can make a headscarf out of it."

Minion shrugged. "Sure, enjoy. It might look kinda weird tied around your head, though."

Violet grinned. "I like weird."

* * *

><p>Megamind never threw anything away if he had a choice. It was a habit left over from his earliest days of supervillainy, when he and Minion had been teenagers on the run, scavenging their supplies from junkyards and poorly-guarded warehouses. The broken bits of one invention, gathered up in the aftermath of a battle, could be recycled into some later project. He'd kept up the habit once they'd established the Evil Lair, making use of the giant storage racks that had once held oil drums and spare machinery.<p>

Right now the blue ex-villain was busily searching through the clutter. _It __**has**__ to be here somewhere! Oh, __**why**__ didn't we catalogue all this stuff when we brought it back? It was the perfect opportunity! One of these days, Minion . . . _his mental grumbling went on as he kept searching.

Finally, in a dark corner, half-hidden between a giant robotic claw and a submarine shaped like a shark, he found it.

The Anti-Climatizer was twelve feet long, and shaped like the planchette on a Ouija board. The remote-controlled craft that carried it in action was rigged to amplify its power, but _this _was the heart and guts of his weather-control machine.

Megamind remembered the thrill when he'd launched it into the atmosphere. From the safety of a bunker overlooking the lake (just above the spot where he'd chained Roxanne, so he could haul her to safety if needed), he'd promised to unleash a storm of biblical proportions. The deadly lightning and hurricane-force winds had challenged even Metro Man, and Megamind had gloated as he saw his rival driven back. Wanting to toy with the hero, he'd tried to switch the Anti-Climatizer's dials . . . and found, to his horror, that it had no effect.

The energy currents the Anti-Climatizer produced were unstable. The chain reaction that started new weather patterns couldn't be controlled. Rain had changed to hail, to snow, to a torrent of actual _fire_. The storm had kept growing in power until, at last, Metro Man had fought his way up to the flying craft and disabled the machine with a blast of laser vision.

With its power source gone, the storm had soon cleared up. But downtown had been badly flooded, the entire city had lost power, and the lightning and wind had started fires – Metro City wouldn't see destruction on such a scale again until Tighten's rampage.

_And I let a civilian get his hands on it?_ When Megamind had sold the Anti-Climatizer (retrieved by Minion from the depths of the lake while his boss was in prison) and the other machines to Devadas Singh, the scientist had said he'd use them for gardening, which wouldn't violate the insurance terms. _He's lived in Metro City all his life, he __**must**__ have seen what the Anti-Climatizer could do! He couldn't be __**that**__ much of an arrogant, jealous fool . . ._

But that was assuming the man actually _had _managed to re-create it.

Megamind ran one black-gloved hand over the generator sphere at the machine's center. It had taken him _months_to come up with a device that could change weather patterns, and Singh – Singer – whatever he wanted to call himself, he only had a normal human's brainpower.

_But I already did the hard work for him, didn't I? He wouldn't have had to __**invent**__ anything._

Well, they'd know soon enough. Clever Roxanne had finally gotten in touch with her friend, Singer's employee, and would be putting her nosy reporter skills to work on someone else for a change.

Megamind smiled. He'd definitely chosen the right mate.

* * *

><p>Markham's coffee shop was one of Roxanne's favorite places for a quick lunch. It was small and quiet, it was a short walk from the KMCP building, and aside from coffee and pastries, it offered tasty (and reasonably healthy) sandwiches and salads.<p>

It also offered a good chance to people-watch. From her seat in the corner booth, the reporter had an excellent view of the downtown streets outside. In years past she'd had to be on her guard, keeping an eye out for the possibility of being kidnapped, but even that had never made her as _nervous_as she was now.

_Come on, you've got no reason to be nervous,_ she told herself. _Tori sounded happy to hear from you on the phone. If she was mad about you not keeping in touch after high school, she wouldn't have agreed to meet today. It'll be fine . . ._

The front door opened, and Victoria Oswell walked into the coffee shop. Her long sandy-blonde hair swung about her hips as she looked around.

"Roxanne?"

One key part of being a reporter was being able to look and sound confident regardless of how you actually felt. Roxanne focused that skill now as she got to her feet and headed over to greet her friend. "Victoria, hi! It's –"

She was cut off as the taller woman seized her in a hug. "I thought I'd have to wait for our twentieth reunion to talk to you again!" Victoria exclaimed, beaming. "I've been seeing you on TV ever since I came back . . ."

They went on chatting as they bought lunch. Conversation came easily, just like it had when they were younger. They caught up on college, careers, family, all the details of life that a best friend listens to.

_Oh god, how I've missed this, _Roxanne found herself thinking.

"Tori, listen. I . . . I'm sorry it's taken me so long to call you –"

"Ah, don't worry about it!" Victoria declared. "It's not like I was any better. After college I traveled so much, I'm not sure how you could've even found me. Especially when I was in flight school," she added with a little grin.

"I still can't believe you actually became a test pilot!" Roxanne exclaimed. "I know you used to talk about it, but come on, everyone talks about being an astronaut or a fighter pilot when they grow up. How many actually follow through with it?"

"I'm just that exceptional." Victoria flipped her ponytail dramatically, as if posing for a photo shoot. "If you want something bad enough, you need to fight until you get it, and that's what I did." She smirked. "I've done well getting jobs, too. Companies like having a pilot who knows her stuff _and _looks damn good posing next to the equipment."

Roxanne chuckled. "I can imagine." She normally disliked people, male or female, who were smug about their looks. But Victoria had always been like this, and Roxanne had admired her confidence and never taken her too seriously. Besides, she knew that her own good looks had helped her television career, so she had no room to criticize. "So what's brought you back to Metro City? Just the job at Green Mountain, or is there something else?"

Victoria shrugged. "I thought it was time to come back. Mr. Singer offered me an opportunity, and I took it."

"Jason's thinking about doing that too." Roxanne swallowed a bite of salad, remembering the conversation she'd had with her brother yesterday. He'd offered to come to lunch with her today, but she'd turned him down, wanting her reunion with Victoria to be just girl-to-girl. "Singer's been doing a lot of recruiting, I understand."

"And why not? His company's doing amazing things!" The blonde woman smiled. "How is little Jase, by the way? I remember how he used to follow us around like a puppy."

Roxanne remembered it too. She and Jason had relied on each other after their brother's death and their mother's breakdown, and spent more time together than a teenaged girl and her little brother usually did. "He's doing great. He's become an aerospace engineer." She gave a small giggle. "And I'm sorry, but I promised him I'd ask if you were seeing anybody."

"I'm not, but tell him no thanks." Victoria leaned in close. "But I noticed _you're _wearing quite a jewel!"

"You mean this?" Roxanne held up her engagement ring, letting the blue diamond catch the sunlight, and immediately had her hand seized and brought in for a closer look.

"The word on the street is you're marrying _Megamind_,"The other woman went on, grinning. "Talk about Mars needs women! And didn't you used to date Metro Man too?" She gave Roxanne a playful nudge in the arm. "I guess we know _your _type."

Roxanne's smile faded. She'd heard her relationship with the blue alien described in much worse terms, and Victoria _was_long out of touch with events in Metro City. But coming from someone she'd thought of as her best friend . . . it still didn't feel nice to hear.

"Tori, it's not like that. Metro Man and I were just friends. And Megamind . . . look, I know he's unusual, but why does that matter? You don't judge a person from the outside!"

Victoria held up her hands defensively. "Okay, I'm sorry. I was just joking!" She shrugged. "I'm not surprised you got involved with them, that's all. I remember how you used to follow all their news stories. And you used to say you wanted to be a reporter so you could, quote, 'expose injustice and bring the truth to the people'. Sounds very superhero-ish to me."

Roxanne relaxed, smiling again. "Okay, I'll give you that."

"I haven't got anything against it, if that's what you're upset about," Victoria went on. "It's going to do wonders for your image. Do you know how rare it is for a superhero to marry?"

"Yes, I _do_ know. I've seen the records. But just because it's rare doesn't mean it _can't_happen."

"Roxanne Ritchi, determined to change the world." Victoria gave a warm smile. "So, when's the big day?"

"The twenty-first," Roxanne replied. "Megamind really wanted to hold it on the spring equinox."

Victoria gave a snort of laughter. "A guy who actually gets involved with the wedding plans? He really is exceptional!"

"Well, he knows about presentation and theatrics. It's right up his alley." Talking of such things, however, reminded Roxanne of the promise she'd made to Megamind. ". . . On another note, I understand you're going to be playing a big part in Green Mountain's latest project. Something about 'lighting up the sky'?"

Victoria's smile stayed on, but her violet-gray eyes narrowed. "This wouldn't be the _real _reason you called me, Miss Big-Shot Reporter?"

Roxanne winced. "Tori, I swear it wasn't! I'm just curious. I promise, anything you say will be off the record."

". . . Well, as long as it's a promise." Her friend relaxed. "It's nothing personal, Roxie. Mr. Singer has a policy about revealing company details. But I'm really excited about this, so I'll talk." She leaned in, grinning excitedly. "It's a weather control machine."

Roxanne choked. "_What?_"

"I know, it's incredible! What an age we live in! Roxanne, this kind of thing could change the future of humanity. Imagine bringing rain to drought-stricken farms. Or stopping hurricanes before they make landfall." Victoria laughed. "Heck, I'd be happy if we could just get rid of those lake effect snows."

Roxanne remembered what Megamind had told her about the Anti-Climatizer. She'd had those very same thoughts, asking why he couldn't use weather control to help the world. _"Because it's too dangerous,"_ he'd insisted, and she'd reflected that it really meant something if _Megamind _thought a machine was too dangerous.

She did her best to hide her worry from her friend. "And what are _you _doing, exactly?"

"I'll be testing it, of course! The machine needs to be in the upper atmosphere to take effect, and they needed the best pilot for the job." She tossed her hair proudly. "Speaking of which, I need to get back to work soon."

". . . Yeah, me too," was all Roxanne could think of to say. "But I'd love it if we could talk again soon!"

"I'd love that too." Victoria smiled down at her as she got to her feet. "I've missed you, Roxanne."

* * *

><p>"I understand your concerns, madame." Megamind straightened up in his chair, trying for his best "charming and gallant hero" voice and pose. "But it won't happen again. I've spoken to Laurie, and I assure you, she's learned her lesson."<p>

Carla Brankovich, principal of the high school his three oldest wards attended, did not look convinced.

The principal was a thin, drab-looking woman dressed in brown, and she reminded Megamind uncomfortably of Miss Doe, his teacher at the Lil' Gifted School. The blue hero had only met Mrs. Brankovich once before, when he'd visited at the start of the school year to explain the . . . _unique _nature of the children under his care. He'd insisted that they'd be no trouble, and that he didn't want them to receive special treatment for being the wards of a superhero. She had quietly agreed to let them attend, and Megamind hadn't given her another thought.

Until now.

"If I may be honest, Mr. . . . _Mind_," said the dark-haired woman, leaning away from him even though her desk was already between them, "this situation has had me worried from the beginning. Laurie's my most serious concern, but the other two –"

"Ahem," Megamind interrupted. He could already tell this meeting wasn't going to go well, but he tried to be civil. "They _do_have names, Mrs. Bronko-vee– "

He stopped, mentally cursing himself for mispronouncing her name. He'd had the same problem with Miss Doe – she insisted her name was pronounced "Doh-ey", and when he'd gotten it wrong, her dislike of the strange blue child had grown even worse.

"Violet and James, then," said the principal, frowning. "Either way, all three of them are safety hazards."

And there it was, out in the open. Megamind got to his feet as hot, stinging anger rose up inside him. He forced himself to keep his voice calm.

"Laurie is no more dangerous than a normal girl with a –" he nearly said 'flamethrower', but remembered most people didn't carry those, "– a box of matches. She _knows_ how dangerous fire is, and she's careful to control it. James only has property damage capability in specific settings. And Violet . . . how is _mind reading _dangerous? Especially in a shool?"

"It could give her an unfair advantage," Brankovich replied, clearly having thought about this for a while. "She _is_an amazingly good student, especially for a juvenile offender –"

"Because she studies!" the blue alien snapped. "She spends most of her time at home with her nose in a textbook! She's preparing for _college!_" His brilliant green eyes narrowed dangerously. "And it's _former_ juvenile offender. _And_ she was sentenced for _defending _herself. Unjustly convicted, just as you've done to Laurie. Tell me, what have you done about the boys she was protecting her friend from?"

". . . We've taken steps," the principal reluctantly answered. "Other students did support her story." She tried not to cower under the furious, protective hero's glare. "She can come back to class on Monday. But I really have to question, Mr. Mind, if _you_are the right guardian for these children."

Megamind paused at the office door. He reached for his disguise watch, and switched on the image of the black-haired man in the leather jacket.

"Under the circumstances, Mrs. Branko-_veesh_, I'd say I'm the best guardian they could have."

* * *

><p>All teenagers are embarrassed by their parents; it's part of growing up. Having a blue alien superhero for a parental figure does not change this, which was why Megamind had finally gotten around to making a personalized human disguise for himself. Since it was hard to design a face from scratch – creating the Space Dad image had been a challenge – he'd simply scanned his normal self, and made adjustments.<p>

Wearing the disguise felt different from pretending to be Bernard. He was still _himself_, just . . . himself as he'd look if he'd been born human. He didn't wear it often, since he usually _liked _attention, but sometimes it was nice to be able to go out in public without drawing stares or being bothered by fans (haters weren't such a problem – they knew better than to harass him face-to-face and risk getting dehydrated).

He'd told Violet and James that morning that he'd drive them home, since he was going to be at the school anyway. No one paid him attention as he made his way through the crowded halls – it was Friday afternoon, and they probably wouldn't have noticed him even if he'd looked like his usual self.

_So this is what it's like. _After his one disastrous year, Megamind had never gone back to school again. He'd educated himself on a need-to-know basis, and didn't feel he'd missed out on anything.

But he knew it wasn't that way for his wards. They hadn't been _born_ different, the way he had. They'd been normal children, with normal lives, until Dr. Tremblay got his hands on them. Even now, they still _looked_normal, and Megamind had secretly hoped their powers might be seen as 'cool', and help make them popular.

Apparently not!

And that was his fault too, wasn't it? Thanks to Tighten, the public no longer inherently trusted those with superpowers, no matter what they looked like. Megamind knew in his head that wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't going to make life any easier for his wards.

As he met up with James and Violet and guided them to the invisible car (and told James that no, he still wasn't allowed to drive it), Megamind kept thinking about what Laurie had said. People were calling her and the others "Megamind's pet freaks"? Or was that just how _she _felt?

And her principal thought he was an unfit guardian? Megamind had to admit, he'd been surprised that the city was so willing to let _him_, a mad scientist and lifelong criminal, adopt five vulnerable children. He'd chalked it up to people once again bending the rules for superheroes, but . . . what if they'd only allowed it so they could keep all the "freaks" in one place?

Megamind had lost the family he'd been born to. The family he had now had been _made_, person by person, over the years. At first, it had just been himself and Minion. For a while, there had been his "uncles", and the warden. Later, the brainbots had come along. Eventually, Roxanne had joined them. Now the teens were part of it too . . . and the thought that they might not feel that way tore at his heart.

He glanced over at the boy in the passenger seat. Fearing what the answer might be, he asked, "James. Violet. Tell me, are you . . . _happy _that I adopted you?"

"I will be if you let me drive the car," James replied with a grin.

"I'm serious!" Megamind protested. "Do either of you wish I'd tried harder to find normal foster homes for you?"

"We never asked you to," Violet spoke up from the back seat. "I'd rather live at the Lair than anywhere else. I feel safe when I'm there." She gave a soft smile. "And I like being with Minion."

Megamind hated the sudden stab of jealousy he felt.

"Look, what do you want to hear?" James said. " 'You saved our lives, we are eternally grateful'?"

The blue man winced. "That's not what I meant at all! You don't owe me anything, and I never want you to feel that you do!"

"Hey man, I was being serious! We _are _grateful." The dreadlocked boy sighed. "Listen. If it were up to me, my grandma would be well again, my granddad would be alive, and I'd be living with the two of them. But that's not how things turned out, and nothing can change that." He smiled. "For my second choice, though, you guys are all right."

Megamind tried not to let them see how relieved he was, and failed. Although he suspected part of that speech had come from the counselor all five teens had visited after their rescue, he still gave James mental points for it. _If I do end up training them, he might make a good team leader._

"Yeah, you don't feel so weird when you're with the rest of us," Violet teased.

James glared at her. "I told you to quit reading my thoughts!"

_Or perhaps not._ "Then, you two _are _happy?"

"_All _of us are!" James reached to give him a friendly clap on the shoulder, then saw his spiked shoulder guards and thought better of it. "You know why Laurie's been avoiding you all week?"

"Because she's displeased that I punished her." _And because I've been avoiding her too._

"No, because she's scared you hate her now! She's never gonna admit it, but she's really sorry about everything she said to you, and she's terrified you're gonna kick her out if she screws up again."

Megamind raised an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to not being a snitch?"

"Hey, you need to hear this! Laurie and I used to talk a lot when we were locked up. She's not used to having people care about her. Now that she's got a home, nothing scares her more than being abandoned again."

". . . I'm very pleased you told me this, James." The warm glow of relief spread even further through the blue hero's heart. "I'll speak to Laurie as soon as we get home."

But that wasn't the way it turned out.

The car's emergency channels suddenly came alive with alarms and broadcasts. Megamind clutched the steering wheel with one hand as he grappled for the communicator with the other, trying to reach Minion.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

His faithful fish's voice came through. _"Oh good, Sir, you're on the road already! Listen, there's just been a massive jailbreak at both the Prison for the Criminally Gifted and the Women's Correctional Center! I'm getting reports of explosions, fire, gas –"_

_Gas . . . ?_Megamind felt an icy weight drop into the pit of his stomach. In the rearview mirror, he saw his own horror echoed on Violet's face as she picked up his thoughts.

"Minion, are you saying the Doom Syndicate are out?"

_"That's what it looks like. But there's something else, Sir. You need to get to the prison right away."_

Megamind groaned. "I can't, I have the kids with me! Just send the brainbots to –"

_"Sir, they __**need**__ you down there!"_

The blue alien paused. Even the thought of escaped supervillains didn't explain the fear he heard in his friend's voice. "Minion, what aren't you telling me?"

Minion faltered on the other end of the line.

_". . . Warden Greyson's been shot."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>To be continued . . .<strong>_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

><p>The wind shrieked around the invisible car as it picked up speed.<p>

It occurred to Megamind that he was probably breaking a number of traffic laws, but he shoved the thought away as soon as it came. He'd never cared about such things when he was a villain, and superheroes bent rules all the time – it was practically part of the job description. And he had far, far worse things to worry about right now.

His gloved hands clenched on the steering wheel.

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

Megamind had broken out of prison hundreds of times in his life. He'd prided himself on never using the exact same escape plan twice, in fact. But, despite warnings from friend and foe alike, he'd never seriously believed that the members of the Doom Syndicate would ever do the same thing. They were too crude, not smart enough, didn't have allies . . .

_How could they?_

Some of Megamind's escapes had damaged the prison in the process. A wall blasted through, or some wiring or pipes taken out. But he had never, ever wanted to destroy the place. The prison was as much a part of his identity as the Evil Lair. He needed it to be there, ready for him to come home to after each battle.

_I sent the Doom Syndicate into my childhood home_.

By now the car had reached the city outskirts. From there, the highway ran in a straight shot to the Prison for the Criminally Gifted, and Megamind hit the accelerator, barely noticing James and Violet clinging to their seats for dear life. _There's no time to drop them off. They've got seatbelts, they'll be fine._

"When we get there," Megamind told the teenagers, raising his voice to be heard over the emergency bulletins that were still coming in, "I want you both to promise me you'll _stay in the car_. I don't know what we're going to find, and I can't watch over you while I'm working. Do you understand?"

James started to protest, but stopped as he saw the blue alien's grim, haunted expression. In the months they'd lived with him, the teens had rarely seen their guardian look so serious about _anything_. ". . . Okay, I promise," he answered. In the rearview mirror, Megamind saw Violet give a nod of agreement.

They could see the damage as they neared the prison. One section of the exercise yard fence had been destroyed by an explosion. _That'll be Destruction Worker's doing. _And . . . oh god, he'd set it off _during exercise_. Through the haze of smoke, the former villain could see guards and prisoners working together to help the wounded. Smoke rising from other sections of the building told him there'd been other explosions, more casualties.

_The warden . . ._

Another wave of terrible, numbing fear and guilt washed over Megamind. He thought of all the hours he'd spent taunting Warden Greyson, and how much he'd enjoyed seeing the older man, the ultimate authority figure of his childhood, taken down a few pegs. Humiliating his jailer was as much a part of the villain game as fighting the hero or kidnapping the damsel.

. . . Greyson _had_ known it was a game, hadn't he?

_He __**does**__ know!_ Megamind mentally screamed at himself. _Minion didn't say he was dead! He's __**fine**__, and you have a job to do!_

_He __**can't**__ die!_

The alien hero pulled the invisible car into the parking lot with a screech of tires. From a compartment, he hauled out the respirator he used on the scenes of fires and gas leaks, and snapped the strap over his large blue head. With his voice muffled, he warned James and Violet one last time to stay in the car, and then raced for the prison entrance.

Inside, a cacophony of alarms battered his sensitive ears. The familiar cold air had turned hot and stinging with chemical smoke. Mixed in with it, Megamind recognized the tendrils of multicolored gas that told him Psycho Delic had been at work. _How did he get hold of the materials?_ He switched his communicator on and called for brainbots to bring the antidote serums he'd prepared last year. He prayed they'd arrive soon, before the gas could spread . . .

A burst of coughing caught Megamind's attention. Coming toward him, he recognized Eric Bellwood, one of the older guards. The heavyset man was holding a towel (probably snatched from the laundry) over his nose and mouth. "Blue, you made it! Look, the whole place is going crazy. That purple psycho got something into the ventilation –"

"I've got brainbots on the way," Megamind assured him, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "Where's the warden?"

"They've moved him to the infirmary." Eric's tone was grim. "There's an ambulance coming, but . . ." He trailed off as the blue hero raced away down the hall.

_I__**knew**__ he couldn't be dead!_ Megamind thought triumphantly. But his fear didn't go away. He knew he should be trying to keep the peace, that that was why they'd called for him, but oh god, he had to _know_.

As he frantically made his way toward the infirmary, the blue alien could read shock and fear – always fear – on the faces of everyone he passed. It had never been like this when he himself broke out of the prison. The other inmates had usually cheered for him, and he was sure some of the guards had secretly admired his cleverness (and rightly so!).

But then, _he'd_ never tried to kill anyone as he escaped.

That, he was sure, was what Destruction Worker and Psycho Delic had done. Not content with just escaping, they'd wanted to leave blood and ruin in their wake, like a warlord destroying a village that had defied him. Hot Flash had almost certainly done the same thing on her end – he hoped Minion would be able to handle the fire at the Women's Correctional Center.

_How in the name of Evil Heaven did they __**arrange**__ all this?_

The infirmary staff moved aside for him as he arrived. He saw Warden Greyson, lying on a stretcher with most of his coat and shirt cut away (god, he'd hardly _ever_ seen the man in his shirtsleeves!). The wound was in the upper right side of his chest, just below the collarbone, and even through the fog of horror, Megamind's knowledge of ballistics told him the shot had come from the front, at point-blank range.

There was so much blood . . .

"Warden!" Megamind pulled his respirator down to speak more clearly. He hurried to the man's side, ignoring the medic's protests. "Warden . . ."

And suddenly he couldn't think of anything to say. "Are you okay?" wouldn't do; the answer was obvious. "I'm sorry," wasn't enough; there was so much to be sorry for.

The warden stirred at the sound of Megamind's voice. His blue eyes narrowed, and a look that was half smile, half grimace appeared on his face.

"Good, you made it."

Megamind was relieved to hear that although his voice was weak, it was steady.

"Warden, how did this happen?" The blue alien crouched by his side. "Which of them shot you?" _When I get my hands on them . . ._

Greyson tried to sit up, but gave a choked sound of pain and lay back down. "It wasn't the Syndicate. It was Venner."

Megamind blinked. The name meant nothing to him. "Who?"

"Mike Venner. One of the new guards." The warden gritted his teeth. "Goddamnit, I _knew_ Venner was trouble! If I'd just been paying attention, this never would've happened!"

"Sir, please, you need to stay calm," one of the medics tried to tend to him. "We don't know how much damage the bullet's done."

The warden groaned. "Of all times to out of commission . . ."

"Fear not!" As he often did in times of turmoil, Megamind tried to fall back into his old theatrics. "Don't worry about a thing, any of you! Your city's defender is here, and shall soon have things under control!" He made no move toward the door, however. Instead, he hesitated by the warden's side, hating how powerless he felt. The thought came back again, the same helpless litany: _This wasn't supposed to happen._

William Greyson had known Megamind since the alien was a small baby. He had learned to read his charge's feelings easily, without being told, and he knew what had to be said.

". . . I'm gonna be fine, Megamind. The ambulance'll be here soon. Go do your job, you're not doing any good just standing around."

Megamind didn't even try to hide his smile. "Very well. If you insist."

He slid his respirator back on as he left the infirmary. _Please, please, let that ambulance get here . . ._

* * *

><p>Out in the still-invisible car, James shifted in the passenger seat, seeking room to stretch out his long legs. "This is so stupid. If Megamind didn't want us helping out, he could've at least dropped us off at the bus stop or somethin'."<p>

Violet, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, shot him a glare. "Didn't you _see_ him? He's freaked the hell out!" She tilted her chin up at the gray, forbidding bulk of the prison. "He grew up there. The people inside are like his family."

"Can you believe how effed up that is?" The boy's voice was soft and thoughtful. "Didn't they even _try_ to find him a regular home?"

Violet's glare deepened. "Regular homes are overrated, James. Not everyone's as lucky as you."

James hesitated. In the time he'd spent with the other teens, he'd quickly learned that he and Lucia were the only ones who'd grown up in happy, loving families. He'd rarely heard Violet talk about her childhood to anyone except Minion, but he knew enough to realize he'd touched a nerve.

That didn't mean he was willing to let his point go, however. "But still, everything could've been different!"

"Including us never gettin' rescued."

"Including us never gettin' experimented on in the first place!" he shot back. "You heard what Tremblay said at the trial. He got the idea from what Megamind did to that Titan guy."

"And _you_ didn't see what he was thinking." The girl huddled deeper into her seat. "I was with Tremblay longer than you, Jay. He was _obsessed_. So bugfuck crazy he didn't even realize there was _anything_ wrong with him. Do you know what a bad sign that is? Most people know on some level if what they're doing is wrong. Tremblay didn't. He really thought he was doing good for us."

James shifted uneasily as he took this in. He knew Violet had been the first of Tremblay's test subjects to survive, but she'd never really talked about what it had been like during the weeks when she was his lone prisoner. And he had no reason to doubt her words about what had been going through the doctor's head – if anyone would know, she would. "You're sayin', if it hadn't been Titan, something else would've gotten him started?"

"I'm sure of it. All he needed was an excuse." Violet gritted her teeth as she gazed up at the prison. "He's somewhere in there now."

James raised an eyebrow. "You can sense him from this far?"

"No, I just know this is where they sent him." She gave a grin that was more like baring her teeth. "Maybe he got caught in the explosion."

"Hey, come on! You can't think . . . okay, you can think it, but you're not supposed to _say_ it." James rested his arms on the back of the seat and looked down at her. "I hate Tremblay too. But it's the law's job to punish him, and they've done that."

"You're quoting the counselor again."

"So? She had a good point!"

"Whatever." Violet began fidgeting with her headscarf, a sure sign that she wanted to change the subject. "Do you know anything about the Doom Syndicate?"

"A little." James slid back into his seat. "They were on the news a lot right before I got kidnapped. That lady with the pink hair –"

"Hot Flash."

"Right, her. She torched a shop on St. Joseph Street. But mostly they left my neighborhood alone." He laughed shortly. "Probably 'cause we didn't have anything worth taking."

"Well, the only one I really know about is Psycho Delic," Violet admitted. "My mom used to work for him before I was born. He had her strung out on his drugs. But, she managed to quit and get clean after she found out she was pregnant with me." Her voice grew bitter. "The only good thing she ever did for me in my life. So when I was growing up, she used to warn me about 'the skeleton man'," she airquoted, "who'd come and take me away if I didn't watch out."

Something clicked in James's mind. He considered his words carefully before speaking – since Violet had been the one to bring up her own past this time, it might be okay to ask. "You told me once that you've always had powers, even before Tremblay did his work. Do you think it's because of what your mom did? Takin' Psycho's drugs while she was pregnant?"

"I guess it could be." Violet rubbed her arms nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "I try not to think about it . . ."

She trailed off. Her head snapped up, and her eyes stared out the car window, wide with horror. "Oh god, no!"

Out in the demolished exercise yard, Psycho Delic's parting gift had done its work. A cloud of the hallucinogenic gas, escaped from the crack blasted in the side of the prison, had settled over the gathered prisoners and guards. The men had already been frightened, and with their hearts racing, it hadn't taken long for the gas to take effect. Now, they were going mad.

James was forcefully reminded of a zombie movie they'd watched on one of the Lair's movie nights. Some of the men fell where they stood, screaming and moaning. Others threw themselves at each other, attacking one another in their delusions. And one group . . . one group was tearing their way through the damaged fence, stumbling down the concrete slope, heading for the highway . . .

The sound of the car door opening made Violet turn her head sharply. "What are you _doing?_"

"I've gotta stop them!" her foster brother explained. "They're gonna get themselves killed!"

"_You're_ gonna get yourself killed! Megamind said to stay in the car –"

The boy ignored her. He shut the door behind him and raced for the edge of the parking lot, heading for the escaping prisoners.

James seldom got the chance to use his powers. When he did, it was for small things – growing cooking herbs for Minion, or tending the garden at his grandmother's nursing home. Living in the heart of the city, surrounded by concrete and metal, there simply wasn't enough plant life for him to let loose his full potential.

But he was far from the city now. All around him, for miles around, the ground beneath his feet was alive and growing.

His eyes and skin began to glow green . . .

* * *

><p>"Looks like we're leading the parade," Kenny Yamada remarked, peering at the side mirror of the news van. Sure enough, there was a convoy of emergency vehicles (and a few others news crews) on the highway with them. Lines of glowing blue in the sky overhead marked where swarms of brainbots were arriving.<p>

"Good, we'll be able to get the best spot," Roxanne replied, keeping her eyes on the road. "Have you got your camera ready?"

Kenny smiled, and gave his machine a pat. "Ready when you are, Roxanne."

The reporter smiled. After Hal had been incarcerated, it had taken her months to find a suitable replacement camera operator. She needed one who not only complemented her style, but could be counted on to stay calm amidst the weirdness Metro City could dish out. But she liked Kenny very much, and for someone who'd only lived here for two years, he had adapted well so far.

Roxanne had covered the scenes of disasters before. Things went wrong at some point in every city, even those that weren't a stomping ground for supervillains. In her head, she was already going over where to start, who to interview first, what details she should call the most attention to. With any luck, she'd also get a chance to capture her fiancé in action . . .

They were just about to turn in to the prison when Roxanne heard Kenny gasp. "Oh _jeez!_ Quick, pull over! I've gotta catch this!"

"What is –" And then she saw.

Across the field, a group of prisoners were staggering toward them, heading directly for the road. Roxanne, who'd often covered the aftermath of Megamind's battles against the Doom Syndicate, recognized victims of one of Psycho Delic's attacks when she saw them. But she quickly realized that the raving, screaming inmates weren't all that had caught Kenny's attention.

The grass was _**moving**_. It grew before their eyes like a time-lapse film, shooting up until it was as tall and thick as a cornfield. The stalks came alive in a writhing sea of green, grasping at the men, tripping them, and rooting them to the ground where they fell. In only a few minutes, all of them had been bound and immobilized – and Kenny had eagerly filmed every second.

Roxanne knew of only one person who could do something like that. A rush of fear and protective anger rose up inside her as she thought, _He brought the kids with him?_

_And it looks like they're doing a good job,_ her own mind answered her.

The reporter wanted badly to run inside and find out if her loved ones were truly safe. But she had a job to do, and, she told herself, she'd do them no favors by getting in their way. There'd be time to talk once things were under control.

"This way," she called to the still-filming Kenny. "We'll get the best coverage from in front of the gate."

"I'm on it!"

* * *

><p>Once his horror at the attack on his former home had ebbed a little, Megamind's powerful brain easily settled into routine. Though he'd only been a hero for a few years, he'd learned quickly.<p>

It was easy to call on the guards who were still lucid to help him guide people from the unsafe areas of the building (the fact that the inmates all went quietly was a sure sign of how bad things were). Once the brainbots arrived, the infirmary staff went to work administering the antidote they'd brought, and the job became even easier.

A number of 'bots also flew out to search for any sign of the two villains, but Megamind doubted they'd have much luck. In all the chaos, no one had seen how Destruction Worker and Psycho Delic made their getaway, and by now they were almost certainly long gone. They were evil, crude, and vengeful, but they weren't stupid.

Two inmates and one guard had been killed in the explosions, and many others were injured. From across the parking lot, Megamind watched in silence as paramedics loaded Warden Greyson into an ambulance. Lying so still, with an oxygen mask fixed over his face, the warden looked very old, and very weak. Oh god, Megamind couldn't even tell if he was still conscious.

He wanted Minion. His best friend always knew what to say and do to make him believe things would be okay. And the warden had been a part of Minion's growing up too – the fish deserved to be here. To have a chance to talk to him, in case . . . _In case he doesn't make it._

"He'll make it."

Roxanne quietly approached the silent blue alien. She still had her microphone in one hand, but had shut it off. The things they had to say now were more important than any interview.

Megamind's green eyes were pained as he looked at her. "You don't know that."

"The hospital's not that far. They'll give him the best care they possibly can." Roxanne gently pulled him into a hug, pressing her cheek against his. She knew he needed the comforting touch, and honestly, she needed it too. She hadn't known the full story of what had happened to Warden Greyson until she'd seen him carried out of the building. While she didn't know him as well as Megamind did, she was still fond of him, and knew how much he meant to the alien.

"He'll pull through. He's tough," she went on. Smiling a little, she added, "After all, he survived raising _you_, didn't he?"

Megamind only held her tighter. His eyes were stinging, and he fiercely told himself it was from the smoke. Men didn't cry. _Heroes_ didn't cry.

They stood there together in the parking lot, silently embracing, as the emergency crews continued their work around them. Finally, a chorus of _bowgs_ and a loud complaint of "Hey, quit it! Let go!" caught their attention.

Several brainbots were flying over toward them, pushing James Walker in front of them like a pack of collies all trying to herd the same sheep. One of the hovering 'bots had some of James's dreadlocks gripped in its maw, and was dragging the protesting boy along by them. Despite everything, the sight got a smile out of Megamind.

"You heard him. Let him go," he gently scolded the brainbot holding James's hair. Sulkily, it did so. "James, what's going on? I thought I told you to stay in the car."

"You mean it wasn't your idea?" Roxanne said. She suddenly felt better about the situation.

"_What_ wasn't my idea?" Megamind demanded. "James, what is she talking about?"

The boy didn't falter. "Man, I'm sorry, but I _had_ to do it! Those guys were out of their minds! If I hadn't done something, they could've been killed."

"For the record, I told him not to," Violet Morgan's voice made the three of them look over. The girl had apparently decided that the "stay in the car" rule no longer applied to her either, and was coming to join them, walking past a line of parked cars. "In case you were wondering. It's not my fault –"

And that was when Mike Venner lunged out from between the cars and grabbed her.

Megamind didn't have to hear his name to know who he was. A disheveled young man in a guard's uniform, spattered with dust and oil and blood, a gun in one hand –

"Everyone back off!" Venner hissed. His eyes were wide, and darting about like a trapped animal's. Megamind realized he was terrified to the point of panic.

Terrified, and holding a gun to his foster daughter's head.

"You're the one who shot the warden." Megamind forced himself to speak calmly. His every instinct screamed at him to draw his own gun and dehydrate the man, but he _couldn't_. Venner might shoot Violet if he saw the hero reach for a weapon. Even if he didn't, the guard was holding onto Violet – she'd be dehydrated too, and he'd still be aiming at her once they were brought back.

"They told me to!" Venner screamed. His arm tightened across Violet's skinny shoulders. "Casteel said it'd show you we meant business this time! They were supposed to take me with 'em!"

_Now_ it all made sense to Megamind. One of the Doom Syndicate – Destruction Worker, from the sound of it – had seen the potential for evil in this guard, and promised him a place in the Syndicate if he helped them break out. The blue alien thought bitterly, _Sometimes the only difference between criminals and guards is which side of the bars they're on._

And then, when he'd served his purpose, they'd left him behind to take the heat. When Megamind had been fighting the Syndicate two years ago, he'd often heard similar stories when he captured their henchmen. The villains were not kind to their underlings.

"Sir, let her go." Roxanne's voice was soft and pleading, but Megamind could tell she wanted to shout. "Please. She has nothing to do with this –"

"You shut up!" Venner snapped, and waved the gun at Roxanne.

By now a horrified (and darkly fascinated) crowd was gathering, surrounding them on all sides. Megamind had the distinct sense of being a performer in an arena. _But it's __**not**__ a game! How could I ever have thought it was?_ His heart was thrumming, his mouth dry. If he didn't do this _just right_, his ward, Minion's favorite, was going to die.

_He already tried to take my father. I won't let him take my child!_

"Venner, let her go. You're in enough trouble already. Surely you don't want to make it worse?"

Venner gave a panicked laugh. "How the hell could it get any worse?"

Megamind decided not to answer that. "We'll let you borrow another hostage. Or anything you like. But you have to let Violet go." _Let go of her, just for a moment . . ._

"No!" Venner was growing more desperate. "She and I are gonna stick together." He gave the petite girl a squeeze that nearly choked her. "This is just a temp'ry mix-up. Casteel's gonna be back soon –"

"They're not coming back for you."

It took them all a moment to realize it was Violet who'd spoken. Her voice was whisper-soft, and she was staring into space with the look of someone who has passed into the blank realm beyond terror. But now, as Megamind watched, awareness was creeping back into her face. Her eyes narrowed, the way he'd seen them do when she was studying a particularly hard textbook.

_What is she doing?_

"You be quiet, you little bitch," Venner hissed. But there was a note of fear in his voice.

"They're not coming back for you, and you know it," Violet whispered again. "They've _l__eft_ you. Used you up and left you, _Mikey_."

Venner froze. The rest of the world seemed to die away for him as he gasped, "How did you . . . ?"

"It's just like you feared, Mikey. He lied to you about everything, and you ate it up like a fool. And now you've gone and killed people here. You even shot the warden. All for nothing. You don't have a friend in the world." Violet grinned darkly, her voice never losing its whispery monotone. "You're gonna have _fun_ in prison . . ."

"_NO!_" Venner _threw_ Violet away from him, sending her sprawling across the asphalt. The gun dropped from his shaking hands. He clawed at his own temples in mad terror, screaming, "_GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_"

Megamind was stunned. But not too stunned to draw his de-gun and fire a dehydration beam at the guard. A heartbeat later, the cube that had been Mike Venner fell to the ground.

The blue hero snatched it up quickly as he hurried to join Roxanne and James by Violet's side. She was trembling, and he was quite sure it wasn't just from being taken hostage. He'd been on the receiving end of her mind-reading powers a few times (all the Lair's residents had), and knew how creepy that I'm-being-watched feeling could be, but he'd never seen anyone react the way Venner had. She'd done something different this time.

In the back of his mind, Megamind had always been concerned for Violet, knowing that, unlike the other teens, she couldn't use her powers to fight off an attacker. It seemed he needn't have worried.

* * *

><p>Some time later, the four of them were back in the invisible car, finally making their way back home. Kenny, understanding that Roxanne wanted to be with her family right now, had promised to drive the news van back.<p>

"I don't _know_ the name for what I did," Violet was saying. "I didn't force him to let go of me. I've told you before, I can't _put_ thoughts in people's heads."

"But you did _something_ to him," Megamind insisted. "I've seen what it looks like when you read a person's mind, and that was _not_ it."

Roxanne was good at telling when someone wanted to stop talking about a particular subject, either because they were tired or because it was uncomfortable. However, she wasn't getting that vibe from Violet now. The girl was as surprised as everyone else by what she'd done to Venner, but she wasn't scared by it.

To be honest, Roxanne was just as curious about it as her fiancé. "What did it feel like?" she asked, trying to help out. "You read a lot of novels, Vie. How would you describe it, literarily?"

Violet perked up, and considered her answer. ". . . Like pulling a loose thread on a sweater. When he was holdin' me, I could read how _scared_ he was. All kids of fears about what could happen to him, swirling and flashing in his mind." She took a deep breath. "So I . . . _gripped_ his fear. Held it there in his head. When he tried to think of somethin' else, I _pulled_, until he came unraveled."

"I don't know if that's awesome or really, really creepy," James quipped.

"I'd call it both!" Megamind declared. "I _had_ thought something like this might happen. You, all of you, received your powers at a critical age, development-wise. It's entirely possible that they're growing as you yourselves do." Suddenly nervous, he glanced at Roxanne. "You're not mad about this, are you?"

She sighed, and shook her head. "I'm not. I feel like I _should_ be, but . . . I'm not. You weren't _trying_ to put them in danger. You told them to stay where it was safe, and when you," she turned to the teens in the back seat, "disobeyed, you did it for good reasons." Her blue eyes gazed at each of them in turn. "I think I'm okay with this after all."

_And even if I wasn't, we don't have a choice now._

Megamind nodded softly, understanding what she meant. Then he told James and Violet, "Put the word out to the others. I want all five of you to meet me tonight in the, ahem, 'fortress of sanity'." He still wasn't pleased by the nickname his addition to the Lair had acquired. "At seven. We need to have a serious talk about the future."

It wasn't until they were nearly home that Roxanne remembered she still had to tell him about the Anti-Climatizer.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To be continued . . .<strong>_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

><p>As American cities went, Metro City wasn't very old. It had begun life during the railroad boom of the mid-nineteenth century, to fill demand for another harbor port along the shoreline of Lake Michigan. It was widely believed, to the point of being written down in the history books, that this was the reason the city's founders had given it such an unimaginative name; they hadn't known just how exceptional it would one day become.<p>

(There was actually far, far more to the story than that, but it doesn't concern us right now.)

Factories and warehouses had sprung up along the spit of land that curved around one side of the harbor. For nearly a hundred years, shipping and manufacturing had been a booming industry for Metro City, until the economic problems of the 1970s led to many of the older buildings – including the power station that had supplied their electricity – being shut down and abandoned.

At the same time, a number of cargo ships had also been abandoned, left in the harbor by companies either too cheap or too lazy to have them moved. In the decades since, many of them had finally been sold (or scrapped), but there were still a few rusted old freighters around. By now, they were practically part of the scenery, and the harbor workers paid them no attention.

The evening air was cold and still. The docks were quiet tonight, and no one noticed as a Zodiac slipped its moorings and slowly motored toward a freighter anchored at the far edge of the harbor. Two figures – one rail-thin, the other big and bulky – began scaling the ladder rungs that ran up the ship's side. After a moment, the third figure stood up in the boat . . . and rocketed up to the deck on a jet of pink flame.

"You couldn't cool it down for once?" Destruction Worker hissed as the three of them scurried below deck. "Someone could've seen that!"

In response, Hot Flash gave a derisive snort. The ship's lights weren't yet shut on, and the flames on her head were their only source of illumination as they made their way down the dark, musty passageway. Pink is not a natural color for light – it gave the shadows a sinister, vaguely eldritch glow.

"And have to wait for your flabby ass to get up the ladder? _Please_. No one's ever caught us out here before, they're not gonna be looking for us here now. The people in this city can be fuckin' _blind_ when they want to be. No offense," she added, with a mean little chuckle.

"None taken." Psycho Delic's voice was a smoky drawl. He'd snatched a rain poncho as a disguise when they reached the harbor, and the dark, hooded garment gave him the look of a purple Grim Reaper. "Cut the lady a lil' slack, D. She's been hidin' that flame under a bushel for a year now. Can't blame her for wantin' to show off a little."

Destruction Worker said nothing. He wasn't going to admit it (Psycho Delic was always infuriatingly smug when he knew he'd won an argument), but the other villain was right. There really was nothing more satisfying than unleashing your full, raw power – especially on those who'd underestimated you. Who'd thought they could control you.

He remembered feeling that thrill the first time he took up the villain mantle. The construction company he'd worked for had weaseled out of paying him compensation when he'd lost his hand on the job; in retaliation, he'd destroyed their offices, as well as the new building he'd been working on when the accident happened.

He could have stopped there, he knew. He'd gotten the revenge he'd planned for. He could have left the city, found some other line of work – with the new prosthetics he was making for himself, he could do just about _anything_. But the thrill that came with seeing his inventions wreak destruction had been too great, and he'd been chasing that thrill ever since.

He looked down at the weak, prison-issue grasper still on his arm. When he had his jackhammers back, he decided, that pathetic little claw would be the first thing he tested them on.

Most of the time, the Doom Syndicate's members kept to their own hideouts around the city. The abandoned ship was the only base that the three of them shared, and only their most trusted underlings knew about it. Consequently, it was the only one they could count on not having been found and raided after their arrests. Each of them had claimed a section of the ship's living quarters as a secondary lair – once they'd gotten the lights working, they split up to check them out.

Psycho Delic had decorated his section of the rooms in a style that he considered opulent and the others considered painfully tacky. Colorful shag rugs, blacklight posters, lava lamps – even a round, plush bed that had been a nightmare to smuggle onto the ship. There was a thin layer of dust over everything, and one of the lamps had fallen over (probably when the ship rolled in a storm), but otherwise the room was still in good shape.

He stripped off the poncho and the rough orange prison jumpsuit. Naked, he pulled one of his favorite coats from the wardrobe. Many of the nerve endings in the villain's scarred, withered skin had been burned away in the chemical accident that transformed him, but touching the material of his trademark clothes – the soft velvet and silk, the fluffy fur collar – was one of the sensual pleasures he could still enjoy.

Not caring if anyone saw him, Psycho Delic rubbed the coat against his bony cheek. "Daddy missed you, sweet thing."

When all three villains had changed back into their costumes, they reassembled in the ship's lounge. A cache of supplies had been left there in anticipation of their return, arranged through the messages the unfortunate Mike Venner had so eagerly delivered. Cash, weapons, fuel for the generator, communications equipment, and (to Hot Flash's delight) a cooler filled with snacks and liquor.

"That'll be Bentley's doing," the villainess purred. "He knows exactly what I like."

They were on no schedule but their own. The war of vengeance against Megamind could begin tomorrow. Tonight was for celebrating their escape from prison, and their homecoming.

Psycho Delic raised his glass, grinning. "To the future of our city."

Three drinks clinked.

* * *

><p>When one of the Lair's adults called for a family meeting, it usually took some time to assemble properly. Someone would forget, and have to be hunted down and dragged out. Or someone would be preoccupied, and claim over and over "I'll be there in a minute!". The kids weren't the only ones guilty of such behavior, either.<p>

But there was none of that tonight. James and Violet had told the others what had happened at the prison that afternoon, and at seven o'clock on the dot, all five teens were gathered in the fortress of sanity.

Megamind almost wished one of them _had_ been late. It would have given him more time to think out what the hell he was supposed to tell them.

It had been so much easier when he'd started training a replacement for Metro Man. He'd been hidden behind a disguise the entire time, able to play-act and keep from becoming too attached to his student (who was, after all, supposed to become his rival). He'd known exactly what he wanted Hal to become. And, most of all, he hadn't had to worry about him getting _hurt_ – not only because his powers made him nigh-invulnerable, but because the only serious threat he'd be facing would be Megamind himself.

The blue alien was embarrassed to admit it, but once he and Minion had found a strategy that worked, he'd enjoyed training Hal. There was something incredibly rewarding about seeing your student finally catch on, learn, and improve. And he'd hoped that training his wards would be even better. A whole range of untapped powers to explore. Students who he knew and loved, who he wouldn't need a disguise to mentor. A peaceful city to learn in, and all the time in the world. It would be _fun!_

But now everything had changed.

Megamind looked at little Lucia, sitting cuddled against Roxanne's side. At Reggie, young and skinny, his glasses askew and his ever-present notebook on his lap. He imagined them in the path of a pink fireball, or a blast of toxic smoke . . .

_But that's precisely __**why**__ we have to do this. _

_I can't protect them forever._

Five sets of expectant eyes were on him – seven, counting Roxanne and Minion. He remembered the advice his fiancée had given him about press conferences, when his usual grandstanding wasn't appropriate: _Just be honest. Speak from the heart._

". . . One year ago," the blue hero finally spoke, "a certain superheroic genius invited five very special young people to stay in his non-evil lair. It was a highly unconventional situation, and many said it would never work out. But," he smiled, "I think I'm right in saying we've proved them wrong?"

"Yeah!" Reggie gave a loud cheer and a fist-pump. Lucia, nodding, snuggled closer to Roxanne. Violet and Minion exchanged a fond look.

"We made the best of it," James said, smiling. "And I think we're doin' pretty well."

He was sitting with one arm around Laurie, and gave her a gentle nudge. The girl glanced up at Megamind uneasily, but nodded. "'S true."

Even after the talk he'd had with Violet and James, it was still a relief to hear that all his children were happy here. That they weren't going to reject and abandon him.

"Thank you." Megamind's voice was low and earnest. "You, all of you, mean so much to me." He wanted to say, _We may not be related, but you're my family, and I love you,_ but decided that would be too sappy. "I've done my best to keep you safe. And I've let you make your own choices about your powers, because . . ." He hesitated, not liking to admit it. "Because I didn't want you to think I was like Tremblay."

There was some murmuring among the teens, but it stopped when Violet spoke up. "I _know_ you're not like him. Y'think I would've stayed here if you were? You're curious about what we can do, sure, but that's okay. You don't wanna _use_ us like he did."

". . . Yes, very well said." As helpful as it was to have his intentions made clear, Megamind couldn't help feeling a little violated that she'd been reading his thoughts so closely. _Minion should have a talk with her about that. _"But now I fear I've done you a great disservice. I'm sure you all heard what happened today?"

There were some murmurs of assent.

"I've fought the Doom Syndicate before, as you know," Megamind went on. "I'm . . . _reasonably_ confident I can defeat them again." _Especially if I act fast, and catch them before they have a chance to reestablish themselves. _"However, there's a new factor in the equation this time.

"You."

Laurie's fact lit up. "You want us to help you fight them?"

"_NO!_" It came out sharper than he'd meant it to. But perhaps that was needed now. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer," he amended quickly. "But none of you are remotely ready to face the Doom Syndicate yet. Unfortunately, it's all too likely that the Syndicate's members will take an interest in _you_."

Lucia, who still remembered the night Psycho Delic had taken her hostage, huddled closer to Roxanne for comfort.

"They may try to recruit you," Megamind went on. "More likely, they'll try to hurt or capture you to get to me. They've already attacked one person dear to me, and you'll probably be their next target."

That wasn't quite true, the blue man thought to himself. If the Syndicate was making a point of attacking people close to him, their next target would be either Minion or Roxanne.

He glanced over at the fish, standing by the corner of the couch where Violet was seated. Patches of his suit's synthetic fur were charred and blackened from dealing with the fire at the Women's Correctional Center a few hours ago, but otherwise he was unharmed. Minion had been by Megamind's side through all of their previous battles – Megamind was reasonably sure he could handle himself if the villains attacked.

Roxanne . . . she knew the risks that came with being a superhero's love interest. The last time the Doom Syndicate had come to power, he'd offered her an escort of brainbot bodyguards. But she'd turned them down, refusing to live in fear. They'd been lucky back then – the Syndicate had been more interested in wreaking havoc in the newly Metro Man-free city than in directly attacking its new hero.

Not anymore.

"But," he held up a gloved finger, "the five of you have an advantage no one else does." _Including Roxanne. I have to find a way to protect her too._ "And so, starting tomorrow, Minion and I are going to train all of you to _**fight**_."

"It's just gonna be defensive stuff!" Minion tried to speak up over the excited din. "You've gotta know what to do if any villains come after you! It'll be fun! We'll see what you're really capable of, you can learn some new moves –"

"Can we have a training ring?" Reggie asked eagerly. "With an obstacle course? Ooh, and a target range?"

"Absolutely!" The cyborg fish beckoned out to the main section of the Lair. "C'mon, let's see what we can set up!"

Once his friend and all the kids had gone, Megamind sank tiredly onto the couch beside Roxanne. "Well, they took that better than I expected."

"I doubt the whole situation's sunk in yet," she replied. "They've been wanting a chance to use their powers for a long time. They're not thinking about how much danger they might be in." She looked him deep in the eyes. "_Do _you think the Doom Syndicate will target them?"

Megamind sighed. "I don't know. It's always been hard to predict what they'll do. I didn't think they'd pull such a violent stunt as today, but obviously I was . . . mistaken."

Sensing that he needed comfort right now, Roxanne pulled him down with her on the couch, pillowing his head in her lap. "How's the warden doing?"

"The hospital said he's still in surgery." He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her close. "They think he'll be all right, but . . ."

_But you hate __**not knowing**__, _Roxanne thought. _And so do I. That's the worst part of this whole rotten situation. We both want to go out and __**do **__something about it all, but we don't know where to start. We have to wait for the other side to make a move._

They lay cuddled in silence for some time, listening to the distant voices of Minion and the teens sussing out what they wanted in their new training ground. Then Roxanne remembered what else she'd learned today, and sighed.

"I hate to give you more bad news, sweetie." She ran a gentle hand over his expansive blue head. He loved it when she petted him like this, and she hoped it would make him feel a little better about what she had to tell him. "But I met with Tori Oswell today. You were right. Singer's copied the Anti-Climatizer."

Megamind groaned against her stomach. "I knew it. That greedy, arrogant fool has no idea what he's trying to harness. He'll be lucky if it merely doesn't work."

"He hasn't tested it yet, though," Roxanne reminded him. "Go talk to him on Monday. One scientist to another. If you can make him understand how dangerous the machine is, maybe he'll back down."

He probably wouldn't, she knew. But there could be no harm in at least _trying _the peaceful option first.

* * *

><p>On most evenings, in Wayne's experience, Danielle came home as soon as her shift was over. They'd make dinner together (or pick something up – neither of them were exactly skilled chefs), and talk about events in the city. Then she'd relax while she watched him work on his music. Or they'd put in a movie, or get up to, ahem, other activities. Both of them had been lonely for a long time, and with the odd hours each one kept, they cherished spending time together. So when Danielle returned to the apartment nearly two hours later than expected, he was worried.<p>

"Dee, what's happened? Are you okay?" It was a constant fear in the back of the ex-hero's mind. He knew his girlfriend worked a dangerous, unpredictable job. She loved it, and he loved her for doing it (and it helped ease his own conscience a little to know there was another capable hero guarding the streets), but the risk that she'd one day be injured in the line of duty was always there.

"Wayne, honey, I'm fine. I stayed late at the station, that's all." Realizing how upset he'd been, she gave him a gentle hug. "I'm sorry. I would've called, but I kinda lost track of time."

He picked her up for a kiss, all forgiven. "What did you get up to that was so absorbing?"

"Research." Once he'd set her down, she went to stretch out on the couch. "When we got the news about the breakouts today, I went down to the archives and dug up everything I could find on the Doom Syndicate. Which, it turns out, is not a whole helluva lot."

Wayne sat down beside her on the couch. "The future detective, honing her skills. But I would've thought you guys would have a ton of records on them by now. Two years ago, it seemed like the Syndicate were on the news every day." Back then, when he'd spent much of his time cloistered in his hideout, news broadcasts had been his window on the city he'd once protected. He'd followed Megamind and Roxanne's work closely, even when he hadn't been ready to talk to them in person.

"Exactly. The group didn't even _exist _until about two years ago. There's some records on Hot Flash a couple of years before that, and Psycho Delic . . . the guy's like an urban legend. Rumors about him go back almost twenty years. But the thing is, there's nothing _definite_. No arrest records, no personal histories. Meanwhile, Megamind's got a file this thick." She held her hands about two feet apart. "Either these punks were _real_ good at flyin' under the radar, or someone's been covering up."

She looked up at Wayne, her black eyes questioning. He realized with a sinking feeling that she was waiting for him to fill in the blanks. The two of them didn't talk about his old life often – they both preferred to think of it as over and done with – and when they did, it was always awkward.

_What do you want to hear, Danielle? That Metro Man knew there were other villains in the city, but he never seriously tried to bring them down because they weren't worthy rivals? Because they didn't banter, or follow the rules, or make him look good when he fought against them? That he left them free on the streets because fighting them wasn't __**fun?**_

He didn't say that, of course. It was hard enough to admit it to himself. But he did answer her, "It's not a coverup. You know Megamind – he loves attention. Being defeated and sent to prison was all part of the show for him. These guys . . . they're just superpowered thugs. They knew they wouldn't stand a chance against Metro Man, so they avoided him. Tried not to draw his attention. They didn't make a big debut until they thought he was dead."

"When I was off the force," Danielle muttered to herself. "Well, not this time."

"Not –" Wayne suddenly realized what she was saying. "Oh no. Dee, you're not looking up all this info because _you're_ planning on fighting them?"

"Why the hell else _would_ I be looking it up?" she snapped. "Wayne, this is my _job_. I fight and catch criminals. I can't pick and choose which ones I've gotta face. And yeah, I might not be super-strong or invulnerable, but I think I'm still pretty good at what I do!"

"But Meg-"

"Goddammit, _we can't depend on Megamind for everything!_" Realizing she was shouting, Danielle took a deep breath. "Sorry. But if the city doesn't trust its officers to handle things without a superhero's help, what's the point of even _having_ a police force? And besides," she went on, "it took Megamind _months_ to bring down the Doom Syndicate last time. If he'd show a little more faith in the MCPD, maybe we could get it done faster, before anything worse happens!"

Wayne didn't bother to remind her that the MCPD was only recently improving itself after years of being cowardly and incompetent. He knew Danielle was all too aware of her own colleagues' shortcomings. And, besides, it would remind her of the _reason_ they'd become that way – namely, him.

He let her rant for a little longer, before reaching out and pulling her close to him. "I know, I know. I'm just scared of something happening to you out there." He stroked her soft, kinky curls. "I love you, Danielle."

Her expression melted. She snuggled her tiny, compact body against his bulk, smiling. "I love you too, Wayne. So much. But you don't need to worry about me. I can handle myself." She smirked a little. "I'm not like Ritchi."

"C'mon, don't be so hard on her. She was playing a part, just like the rest of us."

Danielle mumbled something that sounded like, "a part that was being _your girlfriend_", and Wayne tried not to sigh. He'd assured her, many times, that there had never been anything between him and Roxanne. Heck, the reporter was about to marry his lifelong rival – that should have been proof enough! And for the most part, Danielle believed him, but her feelings about Roxanne Ritchi were still deeply complicated.

An idea occurred to the former hero. "Y'know, the two of you should get together sometime."

Danielle blinked. "Huh?"

"You and Roxanne. Spend some time together. Maybe have a girls' night out. I think you two could be friends, if you wanted to."

"Me and _Ritchi?_ Wayne, are you kidding? We have nothin' in common!"

"How do you know? You've only met her a couple of times." He gave her a pleading, puppy-eyed look. "Please, Dee? Give it a try, for my sake?"

Danielle sighed. "All right. I'll see what I can work into my schedule."

She was silent for a long moment, gazing out at the balcony. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, and almost fearful.

"Wayne? You remember that night last year, when we went to Ri- . . . Roxanne's place?"

"When we helped her pack for moving?" He squeezed her gently, mindful as always of his super-strength. "How could I forget?"

Danielle hesitated. ". . . That night, you tried to rescue her, even though it meant blowin' your cover to me." She swallowed. "I don't ever plan on gettin' into the kind of trouble she used to. Women like me aren't cut out to be damsels in distress," she tried to joke. "But _if_ I did . . . would you save me?"

Wayne answered without hesitation. "Of course I would."

"Even if it meant everyone findin' out the truth?"

". . . Yes, Dee. I'd rescue you."

* * *

><p>Setting up the training ground turned out to be the easy part.<p>

Long before he'd thought he'd get the chance to actually train them, Megamind had watched his wards' abilities closely. He'd imagined strategies, setups, special apparatuses suited to each individual power. He'd even doodled such things occasionally in the margins of his other notes, always taking care to hide or erase the doodles before Roxanne saw them.

Now that he had free reign, it was just a question of making those mental images real.

Teams of brainbots worked late into the night, clearing out a far wing of the Lair. Under their master's command, they lifted, fastened, wired and welded. The air filled with sparks and the sound of clanging metal.

"We'll start first thing in the morning," Megamind told the kids. "Be sure to wear clothes that you won't mind getting torn or stained or set on fire . . ."

The first morning's training was a test. Most of the kids had never used their full power in battle before, and Megamind wanted to see what he'd be starting with. He lined up the four with what he thought of as property damage capability in front of a canvas dummy (someone with a questionable sense of humor had stuck a traffic cone on its head), and one by one, he ordered each of them to attack it with their powers. "Just go for it. Show me what you can do, and we'll hone your technique from there."

On his turn, James complained that they hadn't given him any plants to work with, and Minion had to go and dig some vegetable seeds from the kitchen trash.

On her turn, Laurie burned the dummy to ashes with a single fire blast. While the brainbots set up another one, Megamind gave the teens a lecture about how you should never _kill_ your opponent unless you were in mortal danger. "Otherwise it's much less satisfying to gloat once you win."

By Saturday afternoon, most of the kids were already showing improvement. On Sunday morning, Jason Ritchi invited himself to the Lair, and his sister brought him to the sidelines of the training ground. Whether it was to give him a chance to watch, or just so she could keep an eye on him, she never said.

"He's going easier on them than I would've thought," the young man remarked. "I mean, you hear 'training', and you imagine a drill sergeant or something barking orders. Scrubbing the floor with toothbrushes, marching, that kind of thing."

Roxanne imagined Megamind in a drill sergeant's hat and fatigues, and had to stifle laughter. "That's not what this is about, Jase. He's not trying to make them into soldiers. He just wants them to be able to defend themselves if anyone comes after them."

Jason watched as James, glowing green, lifted a junked car on a writhing forest of vines and smashed it down on the Lair's concrete floor. Chips of metal and glass fell in a glittering rain. "Who does he think is coming after them, North Korea?"

Roxanne sighed. Her brother hadn't lived in Metro City full-time for almost ten years. She'd told him about the Doom Syndicate, of course, but he'd never seen the villainous gang in action. "Raw power isn't the issue. The kids have a lot of potential, and they're probably a match for anyone on that front. The trouble is, the people they're facing have been using superpowers for a lot longer. They've had time to hone their technique. And more than that, they're _ruthless_. A little shock and awe might be the only advantage the kids have."

She looked over at Laurie, by herself in a far corner. The girl was fighting a sort-of duel with the flamethrower Megamind had often threatened Roxanne with back in his villain days. With her fists wreathed in bright orange flame, she deflected blast after blast, punching and blocking the way she would blows from an opponent. _Fighting fire with fire, _Roxanne thought sardonically.

"Still, it's a pretty far cry from singing 'Do Re Mi' up on the mountain," Jason teased.

She groaned. "You're really not going to let that image go, are you? If nothing else, Jase, she had _seven_ kids. I've only got five."

"Details, details." He pointed up at Reggie, who was zipping among the ceiling lights and ductwork on his hoverboard. So far, the new, reinforced ankle restraints he'd installed were functioning perfectly. "Do you think he'd share that thing's schematics with me? Even if we can't recreate it, the guys back in Seattle would get a huge kick out of it."

Roxanne didn't answer him. Her attention was now on Lucia, who was standing with Megamind in front of a row of glass panels.

"Those light shows you create are very lovely," the blue hero was telling the girl. "And no doubt they'll be useful at some point. But what I'm interested in now is your sound projection power." He rested a hand on Lucia's shoulder and pointed at the nearest of the panels, guiding her line of sight. "See if you can shatter the glass."

Lucia gave him a skeptical look. "With my voice?"

"To start with. If that works, try it with that music-conjooring trick of yours."

All the Lair's residents froze and cringed as a deafening shriek rang through the air. The glass panel didn't so much as vibrate.

"No-no-no!" Megamind rubbed his sensitive ears in pain as he spoke. "_Focus_ it. Imagine that you're a bat –"

"I don't like bats!" The black-haired girl grimaced.

"That's not the point! But, all right, then imagine you're . . ." he waved one hand as he searched for a metaphor. "A gunslinger. Picture a perfect, streamlined bullet of sound . . ."

* * *

><p>Later, while the teens continued their training, the Ritchi siblings retreated to the Lair's kitchen for coffee.<p>

"Does it ever bother you?" Jason asked, taking a seat at the bar counter. "Being the only normal human in this place?"

The question surprised Roxanne. "I thought you liked the Lair. When you came last summer, we couldn't get rid of you!"

He chuckled. "Yeah, it's pretty awesome here. But I know you and I don't always think the same way." His expression grew more serious. "I want to be sure my big sister's happy, that's all."

"And I am, Jase." She chuckled softly. "Besides, I think I gave up my 'normality' membership years ago."

"Heh, you've got a point there." Jason sipped his coffee. He seemed to be considering whether he should say something. ". . . Have you heard anything from Mom yet?"

". . . No. If I had, I would've told you – you know that. And it's past the reply date for the invitations. She's not coming."

"I'm sorry," Jason said gently. "I know you really wanted her to."

Roxanne bit her lip. "I wish she would have at least sent a 'not coming' response. I know it's stupid to keep hoping she'll open up again, but –"

"But you're an optimist, Roxie. You always try to see the good in people." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "That's not a bad thing."

"It is when I'm wrong about them," Roxanne said quietly. She took a long drink of coffee, trying to think of something to change the subject to. ". . . Speaking of blasts from the past, the meeting with Tori went well. And before you ask," she held up her hand, "no, she's still not interested in dating you."

Jason pouted in mock disappointment, then brightened. "Are you gonna invite her to the wedding?"

"I might, actually. We do have empty guest spaces to fill up!" Roxanne smiled. "If she doesn't mind the short notice, I could ask her to be my maid of honor. I never did pick one."

"Awesome." A sly look crept across Jason's face. "Did you tell Megamind about my party idea? I found some great night spots yesterday –"

The reporter groaned. "I told you last time, he won't be interested. Drunken debauchery isn't his style at all." Privately, Roxanne wouldn't have minded if Megamind wanted to go out and have one last, crazy night as an unmarried man. She trusted him, and trusted Jason as well. But it had taken her a long time to get the blue alien to loosen up even in private – she couldn't picture him enjoying a wild guys' night on the town, especially now that he had a heroic image to uphold.

"Hey, that's not what I had in mind! We'd just go out and have a few drinks. We could share tips about techie stuff. No debauchery involved." Jason held up his crossed fingers. "Swear on it."

"You do know that _this_," Roxanne crossed her own fingers, "means a promise is null and void, right?"

Jason looked embarrassed.

"I'll pitch the idea to him," the reporter went on. "But not yet. He has a lot going on in the next few days. He doesn't need another distraction."

* * *

><p>On most mornings, Devon Singer was one of the first employees to arrive at Green Mountain's offices. It allowed him to get an early start on the day, but, more importantly in his mind, it kept his workers on their toes. Wouldn't look good to arrive <em>too<em> late after the boss, would it? He'd learned the trick back in his days as a research scientist, when he was still Devadas Singh, and would impress his supervisors (and shame his colleagues) by always being the first one in the lab.

In those days, Singh had often cursed his parents for sticking him with the name "Devadas". What was the point of immigrating, he'd said (never to their faces), if you were still going to cling to things from the old country? They could go on all they liked about the importance of family and pride in your heritage, but as far as he was concerned, his heritage had done nothing but make him the butt of jokes about curry and convenience stores (and other, more offensive things). And when people thought you were a joke, they didn't take your work seriously, no matter how good it was.

When he'd started his own company, he'd changed his name as well. People preferred to do business with a fellow American, and the fact that he'd been born and raised here in Michigan meant nothing if he didn't have an American-sounding _name_. So he'd become Devon Singer – classy, catchy, and enough like his old one that those who remembered his old self would recognize him and see just how successful he'd become.

He paused by his secretary's desk as he made his way to his private office. She was absent, and he made a mental note to remind her about matching his schedule.

Singer crossed the lushly carpeted floor to his desk, situated in front of a vast picture window overlooking downtown. Green Mountain Technologies was currently housed in rented office space, but if this newest project succeeded, Singer planned to begin construction on a new, personalized building. He'd already met with several architects to go over designs.

He'd no sooner taken his seat, however, than the office door opened and the prim, auburn-haired figure of his secretary entered. "Ah, morning, Claire. I suppose I must have missed you in –"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Singer," she interrupted, making him frown. "But you have an urgent meeting first thing this morning."

Singer's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I don't recall anything on the schedule. Who's the meeting with?"

Claire reached for her watch. In a flash of blue light, the young woman's image vanished.

"Me."

To Singer's credit, he was only startled for a moment. "Are you capable of doing _anything_ without needless theatrics?" His mouth twisted in something between a frown and a sneer.

"I tried to make my entrance more conventionally," Megamind replied. "But your secray-teree was _most_ uncooperative."

"I'm not surprised," Singer replied calmly. "Seeing as I told all my staff that you're not welcome in this building. And _what_, dare I ask, have you done with poor Claire?"

Frowning, the blue alien flipped a dehydrated cube onto Singer's desk.

Singer barely glanced at it. "I _know_ that breaks some kind of law. But of course," he drawled, "people bend the rules for superheroes, don't they?"

Megamind ignored the jibe. "The last I heard, Devon,_ stealing_ was also against the law."

It would have taken a very perceptive eye to see the way Singer's shoulders tensed - the human equivalent of raising one's hackles. "I've stolen nothing. I can't be blamed if you were stupid enough not to claim those patents when you had the chance. If you had a problem with it, you could have talked to my lawyers any time you liked. Unless, of course," he gave Megamind a calculating look, "you already know you've got no case?"

Megamind gritted his teeth. Devon Singer always had this effect on him. Confronting the man was like trying to pull on a grease-encrusted cable – the harder you gripped it, the more it slipped through your hands.

"The city _knows_ they're my inventions, Singer. My exploits are well-documented."

"And yet nobody's complained. Could it be because I'm actually making those inventions _useful?_"

Megamind tried to stay calm. _Be diplomatic. That's what Roxanne said. Try to talk to him as a fellow scientist._ "I'm not opposed to sharing my designs. I want to help this city any way I can. All I ask is a little credit –"

"_You don't deserve the credit!_" Singer's voice was a low, icy snarl, all pretense at friendliness gone. "I watched you for twenty years, _Megamind_." He put an acid twist on the name. "The so-called most brilliant man on the planet. You were given a _gift_, and just like all supers, you squandered it. You wasted your time playing stupid little games with other supers, when the things you created could have _changed the world_."

Singer leaned forward aggressively in his chair. "Well, the world doesn't need you now. What one man can do, another man can do."

"A man like_ you,_ Singer?" Megamind leaned forward on the desk. His green eyes burned into Singer's brown ones. "You really believe you're some sort of, of . . . spokesman for the human race? Tell me, if your weather control machine –"

Singer froze. "How did you –"

"Answer the question! If your machine works, will you give it to anyone who asks? Send it anywhere on Earth its power is needed, with no charge?"

". . . Of course not. That wouldn't be –"

"Profitable?"

"I was going to say 'possible'," Singer replied coldly.

"It could be if you wanted it to," Megamind shot back. "But you don't. You're not copying my Anti-Climatizer to help humanity. You're doing it to make yourself rich."

"Do you_ really_ think you have _any_ room to criticize me?" the other man hissed. "When you make money off that hoverbike, and your other toys? The only difference between us is that the things _I_ market are actually _good for something_."

The two men – one tall and tan and clad in an expensive suit, the other short and blue and dressed in black leather – glared at each other over the desk. Through the thick haze of anger, Megamind managed to remember the reason he'd come here in the first place. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to speak calmly.

"Singer, you have to stop work on the Anti-Climatizer."

"First of all, it's called the Green Mountain Doppler WeatherEye –"

"I don't care what you've named it!" The blue alien gestured wildly for emphasis. "The machine _doesn't work_, and that's not easy for me to admit about one of my own creations."

A smug, delighted grin slowly spread across Singer's face. "Is that so? Well, that makes it another on the list of Megamind prototypes I've improved on."

_Improved on?_ "What do you mean?"

"I've made my own enhancements to it. You have nothing to worry about."

_He's **altered** it?_ ". . . Exactly what have you done, Singer?"

"I don't believe it's any of your concern."

"Metrocity's safety is _always_ my concern! That machine is unstable. _Dangerously_ unstable. If you launch it, you could generate a storm that would destroy the city!"

Singer folded his arms across his chest. "When Oppenheimer launched the Manhattan Project, some feared the nuclear chain reaction might destroy the planet. When they began experimenting with nanobots, some worried about 'grey goo'. When the Large Hadron Collider was in operation, some feared it would create reality-destroying stranglets. In all three cases, they were wrong. Any truly great scientific discovery comes with great risk." He smirked. "I never took you for a coward, Megamind."

"I'm not saying this out of cowardice, Singer. _Or_ out of jealousy –"

"Really? Could have fooled me." The businessman watched the blue alien intently, his grin fading. "I'm not going to stop this project. It will be formally announced today, and tested later this week." Then, as if he'd read Megamind's thoughts, he added, "And if you're considering anything along the lines of sabotage, I _very_ much advise you to forget about it."

". . . Are you threatening me?"

"You? Now what could I hope to do to _you?_ The city's beloved hero?"

Singer swiveled his chair toward the window, and gazed out at the city below them. "You're not as beloved as you think, Megamind. Her, heh, 'association' with you has given Roxanne Ritchi a rather tarnished image at KMCP. It seems people don't like women who marry alien freaks. If some . . . _unfortunate_ rumors started, I wouldn't be at all surprised if the station fired her, just to save face."

Megamind froze. He knew Roxanne had faced disapproval over the last few years for her relationship with him. She didn't talk about it often ("I'm never going to please everyone, sweetie. And you're more than worth it."), but it still bothered him deeply. It touched on the one fear that had never completely gone away: that one day she would wake up, realized just who she was involved with, and leave him. But now, to hear her _job_ might be in danger because of him –

_He's lying. He **has** to be._

But Singer hadn't finished. "And I understand one of your young friends had some trouble at school last week. That it's been called into question if you're really a fit guardian for those children. If some calls were made, and CPS investigated . . . well, they might easily decide that those kids aren't safe with you. That they should be moved to different homes, where they'd have a chance at being normal."

Under his spiked gloves, Megamind's knuckles whitened.

Growing up, he'd sometimes heard the inmates made threats toward each other's loved ones on the outside. Promises of violent, bloody retribution if the other prisoner didn't comply with whatever demands they had in mind. Megamind understood that particular social dance. He could have handled those kind of threats, and brought the law down on Singer for even implying such things.

But as far as Megamind knew, nothing the man had threatened just now was actually_ illegal_. He hadn't even made any direct threats. And, the alien cursed to himself, he hadn't thought to record any of this conversation.

Once again, there was nothing Megamind could do without looking like the bad guy.

"You're bluffing," he said at last. "You don't have that kind of influence."

Devon Singer stood up from his chair. "Are you really willing to take that chance? All I'm asking is that my project go off without a hitch. No interference, no fuss, no trouble. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to ask. Do we understand each other?"

Megamind was silent. He didn't trust himself not to say something that would make it all worse.

"Good." Singer's movie-star smile was back on. "And now, if you'll excuse me," he picked up the cube, "I have to go rehydrate my secretary."

* * *

><p><em><strong>To be continued . . .<strong>_


End file.
